


Induration

by morierblackleaf



Series: Induration [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Anguish, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 60
Words: 353,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morierblackleaf/pseuds/morierblackleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 5 of my "Induration" series, taking place two months after the events of Part 4, "Painful Memoirs." </p><p>Having been granted a second chance, the Ranger and Prince begin again with new hope. However, an attack upon someone close to the Prince portends that Estel and Legolas have not resolved the problems they faced only months prior. Made worse by the Prince's sudden suspicion that the Ranger is the one responsible, Legolas' well-being is in doubt again when he turns away from his Imladrian family. Please pay attention to the tags. This story is rife with abuse mental, physical, and sexual, and includes self-harm and extreme psychological disturbance.</p><p>I own none of these characters and make no money from writing about them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I am tired of the water,” he told his brothers with a holler of discontent. Falling to the ground but catching himself with his hands before his rear hit the soft, lush shore, Aragorn added quietly to himself, “And I am tired of being dunked in it.”

It was the height of summer. The constant buzz of activity, both by the Elves in the valley and of the surrounding forest creatures, seemed deafening to the Ranger. In the river, louder than the crash of the waterfalls in the distance, were two boisterous Noldor and a Silvan, all of whom were content to frolic in the Bruinen this balmy, sunny evening. The twins and Prince ignored the Ranger to continue their game, leaving Estel to rest upon the grassy beach while they engaged in a fierce battle to drown each other. A commotion of plashing water and laughing came from the river before him, but the Ranger did not see what caused it. He could well imagine, however, being as the twins and the Prince were still at play.

“Greenleaf! Have you gone over the falls again?” the younger twin asked with a hint of true alarm in his voice, though it was not for the Wood-Elf’s safety, but for his own that Elrohir sounded thusly.

Finally, the human sat up to look out of curiosity, for he knew that if the Wood-Elf could not be found in the water then one or both of the twins would soon be in trouble. Nary had a ripple appeared on the glistening surface of the river, for the Loudwater in this section was wider than it was deep and it moved slowly before picking up speed and rushing off the stepped waterfalls farther down the valley. In fact, the water was so shallow that both of Estel’s dark-haired brothers could stand on the silt river bottom and the cool water only reached just below their elbows.

“Again? When _first_ did he go over the falls?” the elder twin queried with sarcasm, shoving his identical half such that the younger Noldo nearly lost his balance and toppled off his feet and over into the water.

Despite his derision, the elder twin appeared a bit anxious, too, and watched the river around him for signs of the Wood-Elf. Legolas – who could hold his breath longer than most Elves because he spent so much time swimming and thus had plenty of practice – had not yet shown. As soon as Elrohir righted himself enough to glare at his brother in aggravation, the Noldo’s eyes opened wide in surprise before he then squinted down at the water. In an instant, the once standing Elf stood no longer. He dropped wordlessly under the river’s veneer as if the ground he had stood on had suddenly disappeared.

“Elrohir…” the elder twin began with a laugh, but his mirth at seeing his brother fall victim to the laegel’s prowess was short-lived, for lurking under the waves was Legolas, ready to fell his next Noldo. Aragorn could not see the Elf, but seeing Elladan as the elder twin’s legs gave way under him was enough evidence that the laegel was the cause of his brother's misfortune. Falling backwards, the Noldo’s arms smacked loudly and probably painfully against the surface of the water, and then Elladan’s head was submerged, cutting off his yelp of shock.

Aragorn could not help himself – he laughed riotously at the sight. _At least he is not dunking_ me _into the cold water,_ the Ranger mused of Legolas between snorts of wild amusement.

Elrohir’s head popped up out of the river, followed shortly by Elladan’s similar head, both sputtering and sniggering at the laegel’s easy triumph over them. The Wood-Elf abruptly appeared close to the human as he crawled out of the Bruinen and onto the bank, sparing his prey a single shake of his head, before facing Aragorn to tell him, “Your brothers are growing lax in their old age!”

Water clung to the Elf’s bared, fair chest. Even though most of his time was spent outdoors, Legolas never tanned and his skin was always the pale ivory of milk cream. The river water dripped from the laegel’s long golden hair until it became rivulets to greet the other streaming liquid flowing down his slim form. With fading Anor at the Prince’s back and reflecting the colors of the surrounding forest, the Elf’s skin cast an opaline shimmer and his head a nacreous halo. The Elf looked as beautiful as the Ranger had ever seen him, especially now that the Silvan’s flesh was almost filled out as it should be, his muscles nearly as strong as once before, and his smile genuine and carefree.

Aragorn waited until the Prince had dropped to the ground beside him before he jibed, “You should have been born a Water-Elf, not a Wood-Elf, Greenleaf.”

One elegant, dark amber eyebrow rose and the laegel made as if to answer, but a shout from the water, where Elladan was fiendishly pushing Elrohir’s head back into the river, interrupted with, “He should have been born a beaver, not an Elf at all!”

Legolas smiled at Estel and then stretched out beside the Ranger, laying his folded arms under his head for a pillow so that he could bask in the sun with the Adan. The twins’ energy had already proven too much for the human and it seemed to have proven too much for the Silvan, as well. The Prince’s leggings, drenched with water and skintight already, trembled slightly over the Elf’s thigh, where the muscles were overtaxed, Aragorn could see. He longed to extend his hand, to massage the ache he knew resided there, but he was already aroused by the sight of his lover and fear of his reaction to this simple favor stopped him. Over the past two months, the Ranger and twins had made a point to bring the Silvan swimming. Legolas could walk without his cane; he could climb his trees and spar with his companions almost as well as he would have before, but the best exercise for the rest of the Elf’s body was taken when his wounded thigh would not need to bear his weight. Swimming was an excellent choice and it was hard to keep the Prince out of the river during the summer, anyway. At night’s end, though, whatever twisted ache had been wrought by the day’s exercise Estel would smooth away with his strong hands upon Legolas’ thigh.

Aragorn’s perusal of his lover’s well-being led him to notice something entirely different, something that had little to do with a healer’s appraisal. The cloth hung tight across the Elf’s hips and the hollow where the Elf’s muscularly taut belly concaved downwards left a gap between Legolas’ abdomen and the waist of his trousers. The Adan could recall vividly the taste of this flesh, the feeling of the fine hair that trailed down the Elf’s navel, and the beautiful length that the flaxen hair surrounded. Estel was quick to look away when his thoughts led him to thinking of his lover in this way. He had gone long without and would go forever without as he had promised the Elf; though he did not mind, seeing the laegel’s beauty was sometimes too much for him. He closed his eyes and laid his head back down on the grass of the Bruinen’s shore, satisfied that the Prince had merely overexerted himself swimming and that nothing else was wrong. A shadow fell across his face; the warmth of the sun drying his skin lessened.

“My kaimamoroko must be confused. It is not time to hibernate,” the Silvan teased.

When the shadow was gone, he rolled to his side to watch the Elf, who must have known that the Ranger observed him. Legolas did not move, speak, or acknowledge the human’s inspection, but with a faint smile upon his face stared at Anor as she set in the west.

 _Greenleaf is better now,_ the human tried to convince himself.

The bruises left upon the Elf by his father had long since healed. The marks made by the Prince’s own hand upon his thigh were closed, though the muscle underneath was still healing and the scars were almost as vivid now as they had been when first made. Moreover, the vile voice that had once taken the physical embodiment of the disfigurement on the laegel’s thigh was entirely gone, its presence extirpated completely, it seemed. On occasion, the Prince would grow quiet; the cheer for which he was known would dull to introversion as his grief came back in those moments, although the denigrating, loathsome mar's vociferations stayed away. Nevertheless, with Kalin, the twins, Lord Elrond, and Aragorn always within reach of him, the laegel never suffered from his despair for long.

After a few moments, the Ranger rolled to his back, listening to the twins squabble and wishing that he and the Elf were alone. It was not that he didn’t appreciate his brothers’ company. The twins had aided the laegel in his recovery as much as had Aragorn. However, the Ranger was tired of sharing the Wood-Elf with them. He wanted to be only with his lover – to be with Legolas as he had always desired to and had not yet been able to do so. Aragorn should have been pleased to stay in Imladris, to enjoy the twins, his friends, his father, and especially Legolas, but he found little ease save for the quiet moments when he and the Wood-Elf were by themselves. It was time for him to leave Imladris, to roam the wilds again. He only hoped that he could find a way to convince Legolas to accompany him.

“We should have brought our dinner in a basket,” the elder twin complained as he sat upon the grass beside the Prince and Ranger with his equally drenched twin brother. “And we should have told Ada to meet us out here for our meal. I am loath to leave when the sun will soon set over the valley!”

“Then why do you not go get him and have the kitchen fix us a basket?” the Silvan suggested to the twins.

“That is a fine idea, Greenleaf,” Elrohir agreed. “I will fetch a basket if you find Ada,” the younger twin told his identical half, who nodded his head in his own concurrence. “Let us see who can return to our brothers first!”

At once, the Noldorin brothers fled – shirtless, shoeless, and sodden – to the Last Homely House to acquire what they needed before the sun managed to set without them. The two brothers were as lighthearted as Elflings, which was the manner of most who resided in the house of Elrond's making, for the serene valley had that effect on all – even guests, whether Elf, Adan, Dwarf, or Hobbit.

When the twins’ laughter had faded from the human’s ability to hear it, Legolas inquired, “Estel?”

He rolled over once again to face the laegel only to find that Legolas had moved to his side, as well. They lay nearly nose-to-nose: the Ranger pulled back instinctively to avoid this propinquity, but Legolas laid his hand upon the man’s arm to stop him. The growing fullness between his legs, an effect of the mere proximity of their bodies, kept Aragorn enthralled in the Prince’s touch for a few moments, as even this small amount of affection seemed to incite his lust. Usually, he had more control over his body’s reaction to the Wood-Elf, but tonight it seemed impossible. Again, the human pulled away. He had tried to stop himself from doing so because he did not want to confuse Legolas as to why he evaded this intimacy. However, when his face was far enough away that he could see clearly the Elf’s visage, no misunderstanding lay under the Elf’s beautiful features. Instead, sorrow was the only emotion there and Aragorn was angered at himself for being the cause of it.

_Can you not control yourself, you fool? It has only been a few months since last you laid with him!_

It was odd to the human that after the laegel’s torment at the hands of the merchants, Legolas had sometimes evaded the Ranger’s loving touch: now, when the Elf desired it, it was Estel who was often forced to eschew the Wood-Elf’s friendly contact, for with it returned the ever-present desire he felt for his Greenleaf and he did not want to frighten the laegel with his ardor.

The Elf sat up and away from the human, then stared out at the water, distant and withdrawn, as if he were listening to the maleficent voice of his grieving faer, the mar that had become the focus of his self-loathing. Immediately forgetting his own needs, the Ranger reached out to touch Legolas, to draw him back into the present and away from the scar’s voice. Despite Legolas' assurance that he did not suffer from the corporeal manifestation of his desolate faer's revulsion any longer, Estel and his Noldorin family were always wary of its return.

“Come with me into the water, Estel,” the laegel asked, looking down at where the man’s hand had latched onto his arm and then into the Adan’s grey gaze.

“But I am nearly dry,” the human argued in a mock churlish whine, earning him Legolas' adoring, unreserved grin that Estel thought of as his alone, for he had never seen it given to anyone else and hoped he never had to share it. That smile spoke more than just the Elf's amusement at the human’s silliness. If the Prince had asked the Ranger to jump with him head first over the falls just then, he would have done it in hopes of having the Wood-Elf smile at him once more.

The laughter of adolescent Elves resounded through the trees as they made their way through the valley past Legolas and Aragorn, their joviality coming closer as they walked from their own swimming spot farther up the river.

“We have a few moments before the twins return,” Legolas whispered and gave the man an impish grin that for the infatuated human lit up the strand more so than the sun in the sky. Laying his body beside the human, he slid one leg over the Ranger’s leg, his hand trailing over the Adan’s hard, muscled belly.

The man’s breath caught in his chest. Aragorn could not deny that the Elf’s invitation sounded both intriguing and promising. _He is not well enough for this,_ the Ranger told himself, his interest in following the Elf to the water unabated regardless of his inner argument. _I will not risk Legolas’ health for a few moments of pleasure._ The Elf wanted him. Aragorn could see this. The Prince was neither afraid nor sorrowful any longer, but rapacious with hunger for the man. Legolas cleared the space between them, his lips finding the Ranger’s lips to slide across them slowly, teasing the human's mouth without quite giving Aragorn the contact he craved.

“You taste like salt cured meat,” the laegel advised, licking his own lips as if to recapture the taste of the human that remained there.

The Ranger burst out into raucous laughter, drawing the attention of the passersby and quieting their cachinnations. “We must work on your choice of words. Telling someone that they taste of salt cured meat is hardly lover’s talk.”

Slipping his hand between their bodies to rest upon the growing solidity flanked by the human’s legs, Legolas added, “You are as tough as jerky, as well.”

Aragorn pushed at the Prince’s hand, his face flushing with embarrassment at the Elf’s audacity when there were others strolling by them, on their way to the source of the sounds of dinner bells in the distance. His face was not the only part of him filling with heat, however, and he had to admit to the Elf, “That is a bit more like it.”

The Ranger slipped his arm about the Elf’s waist to rest there possessively, whatever hesitance he had held to show affection amidst the passing Noldor fled him at the prospect of being able to touch the Wood-Elf so intimately. Over the time of the Elf’s mending, such familiarity had been unfeasible, and even now, the Ranger was frightened of the consequences. For these past months, the two friends had shared the same bed, the same bath, and acted in all ways as lovers were wont to do – except the briefest of touches or when their bodies lay together in slumber, no other interaction was made between them that went beyond platonic or comforting contact. Kisses that were chastely given, short embraces that could have been between brothers and not lovers, and no lingering hands upon the other – that was how the Ranger had thus far suppressed his desire for the Prince. It had been difficult for Estel, and not merely because he missed the pleasure the two had found together. For Aragorn, each time he kissed the Elf's head, took the Elf's hand, or massaged the aching muscle of the Elf's thigh, he worried what effect his actions might have on the still recovering laegel. Above all else, his worries for Legolas' grieving faer controlled his actions. He had been granted a second chance to let flourish his love for the Wood-Elf and he would not have it tainted with overzealousness.  

His long pale fingers sliding slowly along the contours of the Adan's chest and back down to the dark line of hair that trailed beneath the waist of Estel's trousers, the laegel flashed his secret smile, making the human want to groan at how easily the Prince's touch could dissolve his adamancy to refrain from anything more than friendly touches. _He is not ready._ The willingness that Legolas showed doused his burgeoning worry, but it was the Elf's digits delving quickly, softly under the waist of the Ranger's trousers that extinguished his worry altogether. Legolas' fingers had no more than combed through the curled hair surrounding the human's lower navel before the hand was removed and the Prince grinning again. _Surely a few stolen kisses in the river will be of no harm,_ he reasoned.

“Come with me into the water,” the laegel asked again, this time rising to his knees and then to his feet. When the still hesitant Adan did not move to accompany him, Legolas smirked, saying, “You need a good soak to soften you.”

Legolas held out his hand and the Ranger took it, allowing the Elf to help him to stand and then guide him across the soft grass of the shore towards the indolent river. The laegel slipped under the water before the Adan had the chance to wade out to him.

 _I am a fool,_ he told himself. _Legolas is in his natural habitat,_ the beamish Ranger mused, watching the surface for some sign of the Elf. _What prank he has planned for me, I have stepped into without hesitation!_ He wasn’t about to ruin the Wood-Elf’s fun by getting out of the river, though, and so crossed his arms over his chest to wait, scowling with more mock childishness at the water’s surface while hoping that he would not soon drown. Referencing those many years ago, when first the two had met and the human nearly drowned trying to evade the Prince, Estel told the water where the Elf lurked, “I know how to swim now, Master Wood-Elf, and since I am no longer a young boy, I am no use for your magic!”

Just as the Ranger was about to call out again to Legolas to determine where in the water the Prince could be, the human felt something brush against his legs. Instinctively, Aragorn stepped back to avoid the Silvan, if only because he had not expected the Elf to be so close without his knowledge. Truly, the water-loving Elf was the most adept swimmer that the Ranger had ever chanced to know, for Legolas had spent days and nights beyond count swimming in the waters of the Forest River in Eryn Galen. Still submerged in the water, Legolas wound his arm around the Ranger’s knee, holding the Adan in place. A hand at the front of his leggings evinced exactly what waywardness the Elf had in mind, and at once, the Ranger wanted to protest. He trusted Legolas to know when it was the right time to resume their lovemaking but had his own doubts that now, in the river with the twins soon to return, would be the best time. Moreover, a few kisses and lingering caresses he could have withstood, but the Prince was about to awaken the long dormant desire that for the Elf's sake the Ranger was trying to keep slumbering. Once wakened his yearning would be hard to put back to bed.

“Legolas,” he said to the water, ere realizing that the Elf might not be able to hear him while beneath the surface. Exasperated, the Ranger pushed at the fingers unlacing his leggings, unable to see even his own hands in the clear river, for while the sun was setting and the glare on the Bruinen was lessening, the dark of the coming evening hid the depths of the watercourse, also.

Fingers that curled around his legging’s waist pulled the fabric down his hips, the knuckles of the Elf’s hand pressing into the human’s hard thighs as Legolas inched the cloth downwards to liberate Estel’s neglected shaft. With one hand, the Elf encircled Aragorn’s arousal, and with the other, the Silvan jerked gently free the heavy sacs under the Adan’s member. In careful, deliberate, sensual motions, the Elf caressed the human until the Ranger was breathing harshly, his need causing him to forget his worry that someone might soon interrupt their play. The Prince came up for air: he stood by slithering his own bared, wet chest against the human on his way up until they stood face to face. Hardly had the Elf breathed a deep inhale after being in the water for so long ere he claimed the Ranger’s mouth, though his hand lingered on the human’s sex, stroking in time with the idle motions that the Prince made with his tongue around the man’s eager orifice. Still he wished to stop the laegel, to cease this pleasure in fear for the Wood-Elf's well-being, but he was too far gone in his desire to halt the Elf with anything but token resistance. So, when the Elf released his hold of Aragorn’s lips, the human attempted to protest, “Legolas, wait. We should not –”

But the Elf did not wait; he did not pause nor heed the man’s feeble dissent. Dropping back down into the water, the Silvan vanished from sight.

It did not take much stimulation for the wanting Ranger to silence his objections – one moment he was reaching down into the water to arrest the actions of the phantom Elf there, or at least to make certain that Legolas was well. The next moment, his legs were weak under him, causing him to plunge into the water until it was up to his shoulders, hanging and shifting in the buoyancy of the river’s eddies, his body limp from the pleasure the laegel was giving him. Legolas didn’t loosen his hold of the human during this but dropped deeper into the water to keep accessible the focus of his questing mouth. And then, the Elf’s lips came together around the man’s shaft. It was an oddly agreeable sensation. The warmth of the laegel’s lips and tongue was offset by the cool water trapped in Legolas’ mouth. The rough movement of the laegel’s lithe lingua along the base of Estel’s manhood, the sensation of the Elf’s hands as they stroked through the Ranger’s wet leggings to massage his thighs, his rear, his lower back – it tormented him, it delighted him. He had dreamt of this very pleasure almost every night since the Prince's return, never once believing that it would become reality so soon.

 _Legolas should not…_ the human thought, but the abandon of his lover’s attentions, and his own want for this attention, cleared the man’s worry from his mind. He cried out softly, his hips pitching forward in the eventual thrust of his passion, and his seed was lost in the abundant flow of water around him as the Elf’s final embrace of his mouth and hands upon the Adan brought the human to his completion.

“Are you well, Estel?”

The Ranger’s head shot up and he placed his shaky legs under him on the riverbed. _Sweet Eru._ On the shore stood Oiolaire and Galendil along with two Noldorin warriors that the human did not know by name. They watched him with concern, each of them with dripping hair from their own swim in the water, and at ready, or so it seemed to Aragorn, to dive in to save the human.

“The water grows cold as the sun sets,” he lied quickly without thinking, paddling to keep himself afloat when the laegel playfully suckled a last time at the Ranger’s manhood and his knees grew weak once more. The Elves would likely not question Estel if they thought it was his mortality that caused his discomfort. The human only hoped that his lie would suffice, for in his current state of mind he could think of nothing else. Furthermore, he really did not want the Wood-Elves to dive in to rescue him, not with their Prince having just performed a lewd act on a human male that their King hated, with said human having his trousers unlaced and his manhood out. Estel was quite sure that Legolas’ sentries would slay him if they thought he had taken advantage of their Prince in his time of grief, for though they did not question the laegel’s choice of Estel as his mate, they would likely need small reason to turn against the human should Legolas’ safety or well-being be in doubt.

As expected, the Elves nodded without truly understanding what the man meant, for they understood little of what the Secondborn endured by being human. However, Galendil glanced around the shoreline and then asked of the Ranger, “Was not Prince Legolas with you? Kalin has been looking for him.”

He floundered for a moment, seeking an answer that would pacify the Wood-Elves without rousing either their ire or their worry. Lying about the laegel’s whereabouts might prove a bad idea, but Greenleaf was nowhere in sight, and so Aragorn was unsure whether to tell the Silvan that their Prince was in the water because he didn’t know if Legolas would have him say so.

“I will speak with him later tonight,” came the Prince’s breathless voice from several feet away, the Elf ascending from the river’s depths as if he had been there the whole time, rather than hovering around his lover’s mostly whelmed body moments previous.

The Elves started at the sudden appearance of the laegel, as did Aragorn, but they recovered quickly and Oiolaire and Galendil bowed slightly to the Prince, the two Noldor bowing more graciously, with Galendil saying, “Of course. We will tell him at the evening meal should we see him. Unless you plan to be there yourself?”

The Silvan's sentries worried over the Prince as much as his second family and had taken it upon themselves, with Kalin as their example, to inquire constantly about their Prince's whereabouts and welfare, when normally decorum would have prevented them from being so meddlesome. It was their duty to keep the Prince safe, to ensure that he would never come to harm. When the Prince had been attacked in Lake-town, it had not been Oiolaire, Galendil, or Kalin who had been charged that day with guarding the Prince, and therefore none of them were responsible for letting Legolas wander Lake-town alone, but neither Oiolaire or Galendil, and especially not Kalin, would allow the Prince to come to further harm – decorum be damned. Here in the valley, the sentries felt that Legolas was safe enough amongst his fellow Elves, but given recent events, they still had their doubts about humans and so seemed also to keep their doubts about Estel. For both Legolas and Estel, knowing that the sentries did it from love and not disrespect made their mothering only slightly less aggravating than it might have been.

"I will be eating with Elrond and his sons," the laegel told them, dunking his head under the water and then rising, pushing the wet strands from his face with a flip of his hands. "Tell Kalin not to fret, Elrond will not let me starve."

"Of course. Good evening, my Prince," Galendil said as he bowed with a knowing smile that he shared with Oiolaire. To Estel, the sentries always seemed happiest when knowing that the Peredhel Lord of Imladris accompanied their healing Prince, as if by his very presence, the renowned healer would keep together the shattered pieces of the Prince’s faer.

After bowing their goodbyes, the foursome walked leisurely onwards, speaking of topics that only soldiers find interesting. Estel watched them leave with a sigh, glad to have not been found out in his lie. Legolas was not at all discomfited by having almost been caught and grinned at the Ranger, moving closer to Aragorn as he said, “The water is cold, is it?”

The Elf had heard the human’s quick lie to his Silvan brethren. Still taken aback that the Wood-Elf had so gladly decided to please him, Estel could think of little to say in response. “It is cold without one’s trousers on.” He hefted the ties of his leggings to fasten them about his waist. “Not that I complain,” the Ranger appended. He opened his arms in invitation for the Wood-Elf.

Wading the few steps it took him to reach the human, Legolas wrapped his arms around the man’s torso. “You are stunning, standing here in the river.”

“As are you,” the human replied in kind. He looked over the laegel’s shoulder to the shore, expecting at any moment that the twins would return. He would try to repay the Elf the same pleasure before their arrival, and so skimmed his own arms around the Prince, his hands seeking to fill himself of the Elf’s firm flesh. Excitement that the laegel might be well, truly and for good, coursed through him.

And yet, the Wood-Elf stepped back, offering the man no explanation but another affectionate smile.

“Can I not please you?” the Adan asked.

“It was not me who pleased you,” the Elf argued with a mischievous wink before he began to walk from the river, leading Aragorn by the hand. “Perhaps it was some fish,” the Elf said blithesomely, yanking the Ranger out of the water to finish, “with your leggings pulled down, the poor fish likely became confused.”

Laughing at the implied resemblance Legolas was making between Aragorn’s manhood and a worm one might use for bait and despite his immense disappointment to find that he could not indulge the Elf, the Ranger collapsed onto his back on the shore. When his head hit the ground, the laegel was already lying beside him, pressing his front to the man’s side and hip, his head resting against the Ranger’s collarbone.

“You would make a fine fish, Legolas.”

The Elf chortled happily, giving no precursor that the insidious voices that haunted him had any ill to say about the casual pleasure the Prince had just given his lover. The Wood-Elf asked for no pleasure in return, although the Ranger would have been more than glad to give it to the laegel. He would have been just as happy to have pleased the laegel and left his own needs unattended, just to share the intimacy with his lover that he so missed.

They laid together on the shore, drying in the evening sunlight, listening to the male crickets as they began their nightly chirping to attract mates.

_Legolas will be fine._

Estel worried.

He worried that the Prince would never be well. Aragorn worried that Legolas might hear the hateful voices again – that the Prince might succumb to them once more. Each day slipped by them, and each day the laegel seemed healthier than the last, but eventually the Elf would need to keep his promise to his father to return to Mirkwood. What would happen then, when the Prince was without his lover and friends, troubled the human the most.

The twins’ laughter broke the Ranger’s vexed contemplation. Legolas had heard Elladan and Elrohir long before Aragorn but did not move from the man’s embrace, not even when they heard Lord Elrond provoking his twin sons into more laughter. He sighed in contentment against the Elf’s sopping hair. He had until next spring to cipher this dilemma of how to keep his lover well. He would not spend his short time with the Elf bothered by the Wood-Elf’s imminent departure. Not if he could help it.


	2. Chapter 2

The twins were once more in the water. In the moonlight, to the Ranger’s human eyes, there was only the sporadic ripple of the otherwise gently rolling river to show that the twins were still there. Their games of earlier had been forgotten and Elladan and Elrohir only swam, rising occasionally to float atop the river’s surface before the current would take them too far downstream and the Noldorin brothers would swim their way back to where their father, Legolas, and Estel sat on the grassy shore. The makeshift family had relished their nourishing repast with much joshing and laughter, but now they were quiet, the hushed nature of the beautiful riverside and omnipresent roar of the falls were as soothing as the company and food they had enjoyed. Above them, the wide expanse of a clear summer sky was lit by the full moon, and the Ranger thought of it, _Tilion has done a fine job of steering Ithil tonight!_  

If any Imladrians found it odd that the healing Prince of Mirkwood had chosen a male mortal for his mate then they said naught to Aragorn or Legolas, nor would they, in all likelihood, as this change from friends to lovers between Prince and Ranger had been accepted already by Lord Elrond and the twins. Of course, many of them also had heard the story of what had happened to Mithfindl when he had expressed his opinion for the human and Wood-Elf. For the Elves, although it was not rare that two males or two females would bind their faer, it was not so common that it wasn’t without disdain that many would look upon the laegel’s choice – he was a Prince, after all, and expected to provide a continuance of his father’s royal line. He had also chosen a human, which only complicated the matter. Choosing a human for a mate was not so singular in itself, except that again, as a Prince, his life was not his own.

It was this that Estel pondered over: how much of Estel’s comparatively short life could he hope to spend with the Wood-Elf? Legolas had duties to tend and he had his father and friends, and not being welcome in the Greenwood, Estel would have to part from his lover for long lengths of time to accommodate that aspect of the Prince’s life.

Estel lay in the cooling grass of the summer night, his hair still damp from spending most of the evening in the water and his head lying by the Wood-Elf’s hip, for Legolas laid on the ground, too. For the first few weeks that the Prince had been in Imladris, it had embarrassed the Ranger to show his affection for Legolas in front of his family. Lord Elrond and his twin sons were certainly more understanding than the laegel’s father had been, but Aragorn was not accustomed to being so free with his affection. However, Legolas’ needs had overcome any discomfort the Ranger had felt for touching the Elf in front of others and the human had soon found that staving off the scar’s voice was more important to him than the opinions of those around him. He felt no compunction whatsoever to be so close to the Silvan, nor did he mind that the Prince caressed absently the Ranger’s hair and face while Elrond looked on to the side. Above all others, Elrond had given his blessing and shown joy to find his two foster sons so happy.

His chest lifting and falling near to the Ranger’s head, the laegel let loose a soft yawn, inducing the Imladrian Lord to say, “I take it that today has been good exercise for you.”

“It has,” the Silvan agreed, adding with a chuckle, “Swimming is the only exercise the twins will allow me without them hounding my every movement.”

“That is only because when you swim they cannot find you in the water,” the Ranger argued.

The Prince’s fingers, which had been stroking through the man’s damp mane, suddenly fisted in Aragorn’s curls. Legolas tugged Estel playfully by his thick hair but did not respond to the human’s taunt. Instead, he told his Minyatar, complaining good-naturedly, “Besides, I have grown tired of sparring with the twins in practice. They have stopped fighting underhandedly and let me win too often! It is no challenge at all.”

From where he sat nearby, his back against the tree behind him and his robes billowed out on the ground in an indigo, imperfect half-circle, Elrond told the laegel, “Other than the ache you feel – which is normal, as your leg is still healing – I see no reason why you could not join the warriors in their training, Greenleaf. In fact, though the soreness and aching will persist, there is no call any longer for you to refrain from using your leg as you would normally. It may still hinder you, but there is no reason not to challenge yourself.”

He could sense more than see Legolas’ joy to hear this assurance from the Elven healer. Estel was cheerful to hear this, also, and his thoughts returned to his earlier musing of wanting time alone with the Elf. _If Ada deems Greenleaf to be healthy, then there is truly nothing to stop us from leaving the valley for a while. Now I’ve only to convince Legolas to go with me._ If the Ranger would soon have to relinquish the Wood-Elf back to Mirkwood, then he wanted to have as much time alone with the Prince as he possibly could.

Unbeknownst to Aragorn, for he could not see it, the Wood-Elf had taken to rubbing his thigh through the cloth of his trousers. The Ranger soon realized that this was the case, though, for Elrond reached out across him and to Legolas, and although the Peredhel needed no reason to touch the Prince whom he thought of as another son, the sudden affection had the clear intent of halting Legolas from chafing his leg.

“Does it pain you now, Greenleaf?” the Imladrian leader asked.

The Ranger sat up to see for himself what the Silvan was doing, which in turn caused the Elven Lord to remove his hand, and then the Prince to sit, being as he was now the unwilling center of attention. Legolas looked down to where Elrond had placed his own hand atop the Prince’s once more when Estel had moved from the way.

“It only aches, my Lord,” the laegel said as he had said many times before to pacify the two healers, who now watched him closely for some sign that the Wood-Elf was being mendacious or misleading.

Aware that the Prince was disquieted by the constant barrage of questions concerning his grieving soul and his marred leg, to deflect further inquiry Aragorn promised his father, “I will see to it, Ada. Greenleaf has done too much today and is tired, but I will see to it that he rests easy tonight.”

Lord Elrond nodded to the Ranger that he thought this to be a good idea and then asked of Legolas, “You have not heard the voice today?”

“No.” His Minyatar’s hand was now carefully palpating the laegel’s thigh as the Silvan had been doing just a moment before, except just as Elrond did every few days, he now employed vilya to facilitate the Silvan’s healing process. Even for an Elf – who healed more quickly than did other races of peoples – the Prince’s leg was healing slowly, but it still mended more quickly than had the Wood-Elf stayed in Mirkwood without Elrond or vilya’s aid. Legolas beseeched them as he had many times these past weeks, his soft voice pleading with them to believe him, “It has not offered its obnoxious opinion since the day after I arrived, and you will know it if it does, my Lord, this I promise you.”

 _This is good news, as well,_ the Ranger decided with a smile of relief, a grin he shared with his equally pleased Ada and then turned to the Elf, who did not notice his lover’s cheer, for once the Elven healer had stopped massaging his cramping thigh, the Prince then looked off into the distance, peering into the forest. _Truly, then, these times that Legolas has been withdrawn, he was not listening to the scar._ He watched his lover’s quiet speculation though a burden suddenly lifted from him. Regardless of the Prince's guarantees, he still worried that Legolas kept secret from them whether the scar spoke. He had tried to hide his constant disbelief that the laegel was suffering from the loathsome voice no longer; although he had no reason to consider that Legolas was lying to them about it, when first the mar had begun its assault on the Prince, Legolas had kept his grief’s effects hidden from Elrond, the twins, and the Ranger, and the human feared from the scar’s influence that Legolas might do so again. Seeing the Elf’s inattention in a different light, now, the Ranger cogitated, _Perhaps he has something else on his mind._

Despite these brief moments of brooding, the Elf had been nothing but happy and content during his stay in Rivendell. After their long talk under the old oak tree by the archery field that morning two months ago, all hesitancy between Elf and Ranger had disappeared. _If tonight is any indication that Legolas is fending his grief and this despicable scar’s return, then he is better indeed!_ The human had not soon thought that the Prince would agree to any carnality, much less initiate it, even if he had not allowed the Ranger to reciprocate. This time, he desperately wanted to believe the Wood-Elf’s promise that he had not heard the scar. His fear of the purpose of the laegel’s actions this night finally dissolved completely. _If he has not suffered from its loathing, then it is not from needing to silence the voice that he desired me this eve._

When the Elf yawned again, giving both his Minyatar and lover a spry smile once he was done, he supplied as if in afterthought, “I feel well tonight, even if I am tired.”

Having had enough of his family’s company, and knowing that the Prince was exhausted and perhaps tired of his Minyatar’s fretting, Aragorn climbed to his feet and then extended his hand out for Legolas, asking of him, “Come. It is late.”

Legolas took his lover’s hand, and after making their goodbyes to the Elven Lord of Imladris, and shouting their goodnights to the twins in the water, the two ambled along the dark footpath that led to the Last Homely House.

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Shortly after entering the family wing of the massive home, the Ranger had parted ways with Legolas to go to the apothecary to obtain what he needed to tend the Prince’s thigh, just as he had promised Lord Elrond. Legolas had walked on alone, his thoughts of the quiet night he wished to spend with Estel, of his need for rest, but also of his desire to reach his rooms as quickly as possible. He was not often given the chance to be by himself and intended to make good use of it tonight. His desire was awakened by his and the Ranger's play, and he intended to see it released before Aragorn's return. However, upon opening the door to his room, the Prince found his sentry standing upon the balcony and looking out to the gardens below. Kalin had heard his charge enter and turned to greet his Prince while he strode quickly into the room.

“Good evening, my Prince,” the sentry said with a slight bow.

“Kalin,” the laegel returned. He tried to keep the frustration from his voice, but even he could hear the curtness in his tone as he told his guard, “Oiolaire said that you wished to speak with me. What troubles you?”

The bashful sentry shrugged his shoulders, admitting to his charge, “I was only hoping to speak with you a moment, my Prince, to see that you are doing well. I have been busy with the Imladrian warriors and have not had the chance to speak with you for a few days.”

Feeling bad that he had been short with his friend, Legolas sat heavily upon the bed, though the thick mattress did not move under his weight. _I was rather hoping to have a moment to myself,_ he thought but did not say. In Elrond’s home, Legolas had always gone without having his sentries follow him around for protection, much as he did in his father’s halls. Truly, it was for propriety and not due to danger that Thranduil insisted that the Prince have sentries, at all. Without his presence being needed for said security, and as the twins, Estel, and Elrond had taken over Kalin’s self-imposed duties of seeing that Legolas ate, had his wounds cared for, and ascertained that his faer was recuperating, the Prince often did not see his sentry every day as he would have at home.

“I am fine,” the Elf explained, for he knew that the sentry meant that he wished to know how his Prince was feeling, but as he had said this many times before tonight to every Elf who had asked it of him, the dispassionate assertion did not merit any response from Kalin. He worked on pulling his boots free from his feet. The water from his still damp leggings was soaking through the blankets atop the bed and the Elf wanted nothing more than to remove them. “Estel will return any moment with herbs for my leg ache.”

The sentry nodded, for he was appeased to know that the Wood-Elf would soon have someone with him. Being alone for longer than it took to bathe, skipping a meal, not laughing at one of the twin’s jest or laughing too heartily, or just in general appearing anything but cheerful– all these were things the Prince was no longer able to do, not without causing his second family to worry. And he was tired of their worry. Their worry only caused him stress, which caused him to act in ways that worried them, and therefore, in the end, only increased their worry. Every day, Legolas walked a fine line between showing his friends how he truly felt and how they wanted him to feel – just in his effort to keep them from their concern.

“You have spoken with Lord Elrond today, my Prince?”

His Minyatar required him to visit every few days alone to speak of his recovery, of his grief, and for the Peredhel healer to see that the Prince’s thigh was mending. Normally he saw Elrond at least once a day, anyway, but usually those times were with the twins and Ranger. Once already this day, the Silvan had spoken with his Minyatar of these things alone, but it seemed that Elrond could never speak with Legolas enough. Even tonight, he had wanted to revisit the events in the Prince’s life that he wished only to forget.

“I spoke with him, Kalin. Do not worry,” he tried to placate his sentry, knowing how hollow his oaths were to all around him these days. “The scar does not bother me, nor is this ache anything but from overstretching myself today. Estel will be here soon, and then I will rest it for the remainder of the night.”

Again, the sentry was mollified by this but still he stood expectant of more elucidation. All Kalin wanted was to be certain that his Prince was fine and Legolas felt his guilt rise that he had been annoyed with the faithful sentry. Kalin had always been dutiful and devoted in his safeguard and love of his Prince, and though Legolas had always been able to count the Elf among his companions, over the last months of the laegel's life, his sentry had become one of his most trusted friends – outside Elrond's family, anyway. All annoyance leaving him, the laegel told his fellow Silvan with genuine gratitude, “Thank you for checking on me, my friend.”

If Kalin had noted his Prince’s earlier exasperation, he did not seem to care. Instead, Kalin bent down to retrieve Legolas’ boots where the Prince had sat them by the bed. With yet another nod and a smile, the sentry placed them under the chaise and out of the way, fussing over Legolas for a moment. “Estel will trip over them in the night if you leave them there.”

“Perhaps that was my plan all along,” he teased the sentry and was glad, at least, that Kalin would soon leave, as aggrieved as it made him to be feeling that way.

“Playing such a trick on the human would only incite the twins’ wrath.” The elder Wood-Elf snickered as he walked to the door, his concern assuaged for a while, making him agreeable to leaving the laegel now that he knew Legolas was well. “Good night, my Prince. I will be in the garrison with the others if you have need of me.”

“Good night, Kalin,” he replied in kind, and then watched with eagerness as the sentry finally left the room, and thus left Legolas alone.

The taste of the Ranger in the river, the sight of Estel dripping wet with water and smiling, and the soft cry of pleasure the man had made upon his completion – the Prince's own ardor was roused. Much like Estel, the past months of being so near to his lover but unable to consummate his desire for the other had taken its toll on Legolas. He knew that the Ranger was vexed that should they resume their lovemaking the loathsome vocal umbrage of the Prince's grief would return, as well, and much like the when first the two lovers had found physical pleasure, the laegel's recuperation potentially hindered. Legolas, however, feared no such thing. The Elf had not felt so fine in years. He was happier now than even before his recent bout of woe. If he could only convince those around him of how well he felt, then he would truly have nothing over which to fret.

Having lost his chance to find a quick release before the Ranger’s arrival, the Prince ignored his untended lust with a sigh. Several times over the last two months, Legolas had been tempted to find pleasure with Estel and today more so than most. While lying upon the bank of the river earlier, seeing that the human was just as aroused as he was, Legolas had felt overwhelmed with lecherous thoughts of his human lover. Had he not worried that Aragorn would be guilt ridden afterward, the Silvan would have gladly accepted the Ranger's offer to please him as he had pleased the Ranger. Even now, he wanted nothing more than for the human to return, to draw him onto the bed, and repeat his performance in the river. Only the suspicion that doing so would cause Estel to agonize evermore about the laegel’s faer kept Legolas from making plans to do just that.

An ache had settled in the flesh between his legs; it was eclipsed only by the ache in his thigh. It was to the latter that he turned his attention, though, and he rubbed his leg absently while wondering of the former, _If only Kalin had not been here waiting for me, I might have had the time to find my own release._ Determined to forget both aches, the Prince decided to get out of his wet trousers and prepare for bed. If nothing else, his changing into his sleeping shirt now would hide his unabated arousal from the Ranger’s notice. In trying to stand, to collect his robe from across the way, Legolas twisted too far and the latent ache of his healing thigh became a full spasm. He plopped back down into sitting on the bed, and digging his fingertips into the muscle hidden underneath, the laegel massaged his throbbing flesh, willing the seizure to cease. His hands hit upon a particularly sore spot, causing him to close his eyes and gasp in agony, the debilitating twinge wringing a soft groan from him as he tried to soothe the pain. _My leg has not ached this much since…_ He did not finish his thought, for he did not want to think of that night in Eryn Galen, when he had lain in his own blood in the bathtub after hewing his flesh nearly from the bone.

“Legolas?”

The Prince looked up, and at seeing the suspicious mien of the Ranger coming through the door, he felt very much as if he had been caught misbehaving. He did not cease massaging his leg, for the cramp had not yet let go.

The human rushed to sit the tray he had been holding on the mantel so he could stride quickly across the room, before kneeling promptly in front of Legolas. “What is wrong?”

Taking the Elf’s hands within his own, and thus stopping the laegel’s manipulation of the excruciating discomfort in his thigh, the Ranger peered up at the Silvan. Legolas had hoped that his carefree and spontaneous actions in the river earlier would prove felicitous to his attempts to convince the Ranger that his lover was well, but apparently, this had not worked.

Legolas said simply, “It aches.”

For a moment, it seemed that the Ranger did not believe him. He could see in Estel's face the very apprehension that he had tried to allay. Perhaps it should have bothered him that no one seemed to trust him when he said he was well, that the scar was quiet, but Legolas had hid the effects of his grief upon his faer when first the scar began, so their reluctance to take his word was his own fault, he knew. Luckily, the fleeting suspicion passed from the human's face.

“I have obtained some oil from the apothecary for your thigh,” Estel said, rising from his knees and using the Elf’s knees for support as he stood. “It will not ache for long.” Aragorn grunted as his limbs popped with the movement but smiled down at the Silvan, “The twins wore me out, as well.”

“You are getting old, Master Human,” the pained Elf teased his lover. He ignored the ache of his own limb and was relieved that Aragorn had withdrawn his misgiving. “You are older than many trees in the forest, Estel.”

He knew that it frustrated the man to be reminded of his mortality because Aragorn still feared what would happen to Legolas upon the man’s death. However, the Elven Prince held tightly to his promise to let nothing stand between them, and Legolas would not allow such a topic to be unspoken as if by ignoring it they could pretend it did not exist.

 _Estel must be in a good mood tonight,_ the laegel mused, watching the man as he tried to give the Silvan a glare. _Maybe a good soak was really all he needed._

The human’s frown dissolved into a smirk, which then became an outright contagious smile as Aragorn replied, “Need I remind you that you – ”

“No, you need _not_ remind me, Estel,” he growled, his own game turned against him. He had no intention of listening to the Ranger explain again how the Prince was older than the dirt in which the trees in question grew. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave the human what he hoped was a princely moue of disgruntlement.

He also hoped that the Ranger would laugh at this inanity, which Estel did merrily. For a few moments, Legolas watched the human in silence. Lit only by the moonlight from the balcony doors and a small lamp, the Prince’s bedroom was pleasantly warm and cozy, and felt to the laegel very much like the shared living quarters of a bonded couple. Boots here, a pipe there, and other detritus of the human’s continued presence made the chamber heartening to the Prince. Even now, Aragorn was holding the phial of rapeseed oil – the same kind of oil they used in their lovemaking – over the flame of the lamp set on the mantel. He had seen the Ranger do this often: when the oil was warm, the human would use it to massage the laegel’s cramped thigh muscles. It was a nightly ritual that Legolas had grown to enjoy, for the undemanding pleasure the Ranger brought him by his loving touch, coupled with the physical contentment of the release of tension in his aching thigh, made the Elf look forward to this event each night. Over the last couple of months, save for their play in the river tonight, these nocturnal massages were the only intimate touches the two had truly allowed, and the habitual activity was one of the many that the two shared as if they were bonded in faer and not just in promises.

“Lie back.”

He did as he was asked, not bothering to situate himself on the bed properly, but merely letting his legs hang over the side as if he were sitting. The human placed the phial on the bed beside Legolas and reached for the ties of the Elf’s leggings. He was glad that the pain from his thigh had stifled his desire – if the Ranger had seen it and made the offer to please him again, Legolas was quite sure that he wouldn’t have the willpower to deny the man's second offer.

The healer worked perfunctorily as he skimmed the tight, damp cloth down over the Prince’s hips, which the Elf lifted so that Aragorn could free his trousers from where Legolas laid upon them. Estel rolled them down the laegel’s legs to pull them off the Wood-Elf. Aragorn was a healer during these moments – he did not touch the Elf except to perform what would aid the laegel, but even these platonic caresses seemed to stimulate the Prince. Surreptitiously, he tugged at the hem of his tunic, hiding his renewing arousal before Aragorn could see it. When the Ranger began to massage with his oiled hands the tight muscles of Legolas’ thigh, the Elf’s leg jerked of its own accord, the rigidity there responding to Aragorn’s handling with a bolt of pure pain as the muscle unwillingly relaxed. The Elf’s hand shot out to stop the Ranger’s palpations.

“Legolas?”

“It aches tonight more than usual,” he said by way of explanation for his actions, but then once more feared immediately that Aragorn would infer that it had been Legolas’ play with his lover, and not his swimming with the twins, that was the cause of his thigh’s protest. Ever was the Prince cautious of his words and actions in the effort to keep his lover and friends from their constant vexation over his welfare.

Aragorn seemed to understand, though. As he began to knead the Silvan’s muscles once more, taking caution around the sensitive skin atop the Elf’s leg, the human told the Prince, “As Ada says that it will not hurt you permanently to use this leg as you would have before, I suppose that this ache will lessen the more that you use it. With time, it should not pester you at all.”

He lay there, letting his lover’s soft humming and devoted attention soothe him. His thoughts drifted to the sounds of nature outside. Much like Estel, Legolas longed to be free of the cloying company of the twins, his Minyatar, and the pitying Elves in Imladris, who, much like his own Wood-Elf brethren in Eryn Galen, were kind to the Prince, though they seemed to distance themselves from the ailing Silvan, as if afraid of one who had lived through his assault when few before had been willing to do so.

 _Estel may not wish to leave Imladris,_ he thought to himself. _If I asked him, he might agree to go, but I do not wish to force him into leaving. He has spent little time here over the last years. Even if my leg now works properly, what if I were incapacitated by it during battle? I cannot risk Estel’s welfare by having him guard me as if he was one of my sentries._ Likewise, the Prince imagined that he would have a hard time trying to convince Kalin or the twins not to follow, and though he loved his friends’ companionship, it would be pointless to leave the valley with Estel to avoid his friends’ worry if his friends only followed him into the woods out of anxiety for him.

Long after the ache had dissipated in Legolas’ muscles, Estel stopped his manipulation of the laegel’s thigh. He sat on his heels on the floor, kneeling before the half-naked Wood-Elf, but kept his hands on the Silvan’s leg. Noticing the human had ceased, Legolas prompted as he bumped his other, uninjured thigh against the human’s hands, “What of this one?”

The human’s hands went to the thigh in question immediately. “Does it ache as well?” the Ranger asked, unease tingeing his query.

“No,” the Wood-Elf admitted with a snicker. “It does not ache. It is merely jealous.”

Aragorn chuckled loudly, and then placed a brisk buss against each of the Silvan’s knees. “It is a just argument,” he said, as if speaking to the laegel’s jealous limb. “Your fellow thigh receives my consideration every night, while you have not!”

He gave the Silvan’s other thigh no less a thorough massage than the injured one, but did not stop even there. Pouring more of the warm oil into his hands, the healer began to rub the Elf’s calves, his feet, and had moved upwards to the Prince’s thighs again when the laegel finally rolled over to his stomach – his shaft was wakening more quickly between his legs and soon he would not be able to hide it from the human’s view.

“You spoil me,” the Prince complained but did not offer to stop the human from his toil. This was the first time Aragorn had gone so far in his massage of the laegel, and perhaps the Elf should have stopped him to end what he knew would eventuate into capitulating to his own desire, should Estel be willing. However, Legolas had yearned for this intimacy as much as for the pleasure the Ranger could bring to him, and he found himself unwilling to make the human halt.

“I assumed the rest of you was envious, as well,” the man teased. He slicked his hands beneath the Elf’s tunic, running them over the Prince’s rear and hips, his movements no longer those of a healer, but those of a lover. Aragorn climbed onto the bed, his knees bestride the laegel’s thighs, as he kneaded the Silvan’s back under the cloth of his tunic. Legolas pressed his face into the soft blanket upon the bed, hoping to hide the flush on his cheeks. His voice a husky whisper, the human suggested, leaving no confusion as to what he offered, “Take off your tunic. And if you roll over, Greenleaf, I will massage your front.”

The offer was entirely too tempting; Legolas groaned at the lust that the mere imagining of Aragorn massaging his chest, belly, and shaft had sparked within him. “I do not wish to move,” he prevaricated, hoping that his denial would not cause the human to fret about whether the Prince was well.

Without warning, the Ranger, still massaging what he could reach of the Elf’s back and shoulders under the tunic, demanded vehemently, “Come with me into the wilds.”

The half-nude, surprised Wood-Elf tried to sit up, forcing Aragorn to move off him and to the side. He pulled his legs to him to fold around the new ache he had acquired, one that lay betwixt his legs, and one that was anything but softened by the man’s massaging hands. Hiding his anticipation behind a mask of uncertainty and seriousness, Legolas asked his lover, voicing his own earlier thoughts, “Into the wilds? What of the twins? What of Elrond? Or Kalin? They will not soon let me out of their sight.”

Aragorn placed the phial of oil on the nightstand and then hopped off the bed to grab the Silvan’s sleeping robe that lay on the chaise nearby, shedding his clothing and donning his own robe along the way. It seemed to the Prince that these actions were to delay the human’s answer. _Let him say that the twins are not invited,_ the Wood-Elf pled to no one in particular.

Estel sat on the bed beside Legolas once more and then handed the Elf the robe he held, although the Prince made no move to wrap himself in it. “I love my brothers,” the human explained, “but their company grows tiresome. And Ada has said tonight that your leg is healing how it ought to be. So I had rather hoped to have you all to myself.”

“Into the wilds?” the laegel asked again slowly, and bewildered, it was he who stalled now. Turning his gaze out the open balcony doors and to Ithil beyond, the Prince found himself wanting more than anything to be out in the forests with the Ranger. The last time the two had traveled alone, when the two merchants from Lake-town had accosted them in the forests of Mirkwood, the Prince had been grieving, his senses dulled and his heart heavy with burden, but to explore with the Adan now would be as it had been for years before. They could sleep under the moon and stars, hunt during the day, roast their meat over the fire, bathe in the waters they found – they could be alone and do as they pleased. Legolas had been longing for this before the Ranger had even mentioned it and was not surprised that the human desired the same as he, for they were both alike in their love of adventure and travel. Returning his gaze to the human, the Prince could not help but to smile, and said a third time, “Into the wilds.”

The Ranger climbed farther up the bed, placed his back to the headboard, and opened his arms for the half-clothed laegel, who followed the human’s prompt and settled against his lover, sitting between the man’s bent legs. Legolas laid his back upon the human’s front, his robe balled tightly in his fists, which he still held at his waist to veil his shaft.

“Go into the wilderness with me, Legolas. Let us leave Imladris for a while.” Sweeping aside the hair laying across the Elf’s shoulders, Estel placed his chin there to speak directly into the Silvan’s ear. Thinking that the Prince needed convincing, when in fact the laegel was as eager as Estel, the human reasoned, “It would not even need to be for long. Just a short trip. A hunting trip, if nothing else. We would not need to travel far. We can roam just beyond the borders, just far enough not to run into Glorfindel’s warriors.”

Moving on his knees, Legolas sat astride the man’s legs, his arms around the Ranger’s neck and his face as close to Aragorn’s as he could without the two touching. Legolas brushed his lips across the man’s mouth, and then leant back so that the human could see his lighthearted, loving smile. “I do not know.” Legolas was already brimming with excitement at the thought of leaving Rivendell to be alone with his lover, but he was not ready to agree just yet. He had one matter that had not been resolved. “Sway me, Estel.”

The Ranger grimaced, saying, “I have been trying to.” Disheartened, the human began his suasion anew, telling the Prince, “If you wish the twins to come, I am certain that they would agree. We could go anywhere, Legolas, even if it is not far… and we would be home long before you have promised your father to return to Eryn Galen.”

“No, Estel,” the Prince interrupted, dropped his hold of the robe that hid his wakened shaft and then began to loosen his tunic before finally pulling it over his head. He sat on his lover’s lap, exposed and deprived. If he would go into the wilds with Aragorn, even if for only a short time, he needed to know that he was truly well. “Not with words.”

The human’s eyes grew wide and his mouth stood ajar when his mind could no longer supply the argument he had been trying to give, for his mind was instead contemplating if the Prince’s innuendo meant what he thought it to suggest.

Legolas wound his hand around the man’s wrist, his boldness astonishing even himself when he placed the Ranger’s hand between his legs. “Sway me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Still in the Elf’s grasp, the Ranger’s hand curled around Legolas’ thick shaft instinctively, for though he understood the Prince’s innuendo now, in his surprise he could not seem to act upon it. After a moment of the Ranger’s inactivity, the Elf straddling the human’s lap leant forward and placed his forehead against Aragorn’s to say, “Have you forgotten how?”

This startled the man into moving his hand, stroking along the firm, sleek shaft in a protracted, absentminded pace. He watched the Silvan for his reaction to touching him intimately in this way, as Estel had not been able to do so for what seemed forever.

Legolas looked down at the Ranger with an amused glower. “Is this the only argument you wish to make?”

 _He is truly ready._ Laughing with the Elf at Legolas’ mock dissatisfaction with the Ranger’s ‘argument,’ Estel told himself, _Sway him, indeed. If this is how he wishes to be convinced to accompany me, I will make many arguments this night to see that he leaves with me come tomorrow!_

With this in mind, Estel took the Silvan’s mouth, suckling the Elf’s questing tongue as his hand slid easily along the Elf’s smooth, glistening body. His fingers were slicked with oil from his massage of the Prince, as well as what was on Legolas’ slim form already. His hands glided over the Prince’s sides, to his back, where they headed upwards until he had his fingers curled over the Elf’s shoulders and could pull Legolas closer to him.

Being as he was sitting on the Ranger’s lap, Legolas was taller than the human was in this position, so when Estel pushed himself against the Wood-Elf, his head met the juncture between the two sculptured halves of the Silvan’s chest. He pressed his head into the sound of the beating heart lying under the Elf’s broad, wiry chest, before turning his mouth into the solid muscle there instead. He laved with his tongue Legolas’ hairless trunk, tasting the skin. As smooth and velvety as the underside of a petal, the delicate bloom of carnation on the Silvan’s cream skin blossomed under Aragorn’s tongue.

At the laegel’s moan of pleasure, the Ranger took the tightened bud between his lips, pulling it gently to hear the Elf moan again.

“Stand on your knees,” he told the Prince, pulling on Legolas’ arms to compel him to rise and raising his knees to provide the Silvan a place to sit. Legolas complied readily enough even when the Ranger pushed him back to perch upon the human’s sloped thighs.

The Prince’s shaft was right before the human. He wasted no time before he had his mouth upon his lover. Aragorn lapped at the Elf’s shaft, his own desire rising at the taste of the Wood-Elf. With one hand, Legolas alternately tugged at the Ranger’s hair before he caressed it, and with the other hand, the gasping Prince shoved the man’s hands away from his lower back and to his rear, never once ceasing his sighing pleasure at how Aragorn’s mouth caressed his shaft. The Prince was being friskily aggressive, his paramount lust motivating him to be hurried and abrupt – and the human loved it. The Ranger’s skillful handling and the Prince’s desire had the Elf near his peak already, but Legolas did not want to end the human’s persuasion like this. He ordered, “Get the oil, Estel.”

The oil he took from the nightstand, his hand shaking at the intense concupiscence he endured at having the wanton, naked Elf sitting astride him, flushed and heady with longing. With the Elf still in his lap, Aragorn lathered his fingers in the slick, sweet smelling oil, moving them slowly against the pool of lubricant in his palm – the Silvan watched the Ranger’s every motion, the salacious, voracious desire he exuded heightened the human’s awareness of his own movements. The Prince’s generally incisive eyes were wide and intoxicating, the usual pale blue prurient and violet in the vermilion candlelight reflecting off the laegel’s engrossed, jovial countenance. He truly wanted to see the Wood-Elf’s beautiful body as he extended the small opening with his fingers, but Aragorn settled for watching the laegel’s face, instead, fascinated with the Elf’s enthrallment. Each time the Ranger’s finger would slip out of his lover’s body, Legolas would sigh, while each time he would slide his digit back within the deprived Elf, the Prince would groan. Aragorn added another finger to the first, and then chortled at the Elf’s neediness, which earned him a reprimand for his slowness in the form of another tug of his hair by the Wood-Elf.

Narrowing his eyes, the Prince grinned in return, telling the Ranger, “I have not yet heard the gist of this suasion, Estel. Hurry.”

Lifting himself into standing on his knees, and thereby throwing the surprised Elf off his lap and onto his back upon the bed, Aragorn’s cachinnations continued as he followed the Prince and lay out atop him, pressing their arousals between them. “Then we shall have to remedy that. You will soon understand the thrust of my argument.”

Legolas laughed without restraint as the Ranger played along with the Elf’s jest. Aragorn watched the Prince laugh and was enraptured. The light and joy that had once resided in the Elf’s eyes before his recent excruciation dwelt in the Silvan again. The Elf was as he used to be, perhaps better than this, for the weariness, the grief, and the uncertainty were gone from Legolas – not abandoning him to be a numbed shell, but leaving the Wood-Elf confident, happy, intact, and here with Aragorn.

He spread the laegel’s legs, his hands seeking the entrance located between to bring the Prince back to the brink of release and to ensure that the Elf’s body was primed for what Legolas desired to happen next. Aragorn slid his fingers within the Prince’s aperture and resumed massaging within the Elf, lapping at the silken skin of the laegel’s shaft, until the Elf was tugging at his hair to get the man to stop.

“Now, Estel,” the Wood-Elf tried to order, but his voice was whispery, wailful, so great was his need.

The Prince was writhing before him, impaling himself upon the fingers lodged gratifyingly within his body. “Are you sure, Legolas?” he asked the laegel.

“I am certain,” the Wood-Elf moaned, bucking his hips downward, “please.”

But as soon as the Ranger was between his lover’s legs, which were spread wide to accommodate the human, Estel held his arousal in hand, his mind providing him again with the recollection of the first time he had lain with the Elf like this and the sorrow his actions had brought to Legolas, to the human’s adopted brothers and father, and to himself.

_I promised that it would be different this time. I thought he desired me the first time, as did Legolas. Who knows if it is not the scar that makes him want this now?_

Noting the undue pause, Legolas’ lustful participation slowed until the Elf’s body merely trembled in unresolved desire. He propped his elbows upon the mattress and bent upwards to face the Ranger, asking breathlessly, “What is wrong?”

The human considered whether to tell the Elf why he did not wish to enter his more-than-willing body. Although Aragorn was as nervous as the first time they had made love this way, those long months ago here in this very bed, the Silvan did not seem nervous or afraid at all. If he told the Elf why he hesitated, however, he would only be mentioning the very troubles that the Ranger was glad to see the Silvan had forgotten for now.

“I am just admiring you,” he demurred, letting his eyes travel the Elf’s handsome form, but avoiding the Prince’s gaze.

“Do your admiring while you are inside of me,” the distracted Elf complained.

The Ranger forgot his worries promptly at the Wood-Elf’s words, for he remembered that he wanted very much to be inside the Elf. As light as the laegel was, the Prince barely made a dent in the down bed on which he lay. Aragorn, however, created a dip in the thick mattress, his knees digging deeply into the feather bed. He crawled forward on his knees the slight space between them, and wrapping his arms under Legolas’ thighs, lifted the lithe Elf the last few inches upwards until he could enter Legolas without difficulty. The Prince responded by winding his legs around the human’s waist. He tried to push his way inside of the laegel slowly; the Prince would not have it. The Adan had already found release once this day – the Elf had not. By the grip of his legs around the Ranger’s middle, Legolas drew the Adan against and farther into him.

Taking the none-too-subtle instruction, Aragorn rolled his hips forward, plunging his shaft deeper within the Elf.

“I know that you are a swordsman,” the laegel ground out between groans, “but you have the aim of an archer.”

Aragorn was right – this time was different from when first he had made love to the Wood-Elf.

This was the first time Estel had ever made love to the Elf and only the Elf. Always before, the Ranger had felt that he had been comforting the Prince, that he had been giving the Silvan something he needed, rather than something that Legolas truly desired. Nothing about the laegel’s pleasure today hinted of anything but lust and affection.

 _I hope the twins are still in the river,_ the Ranger thought with a grin, rolling his hips forward again, and once more, just to hear the Silvan cry out raucously. _Because anyone in this wing of the house is sure to hear Legolas._

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The human had remained still, letting the Silvan do as he pleased, riding the Ranger though Legolas lay on the bed, for the Adan could only watch as the Elf found his release before the amused, panting Ranger was near his own. The muscles of Legolas’ torso and belly contracted with each thrust of his lower body into Estel’s groin. In the effort to find his own peak, Legolas now raised his hips farther from the bed, his legs clasping behind Aragorn to bring the Ranger flush to his needy body, as he began to pound himself against Estel. The Wood-Elf stretched his arms out to touch the man but could not reach the Adan: Aragorn grabbed the laegel’s hands, and using this hold to his advantage, the light Elf arched his back so that only his head remained on the mattress. He sought to increase the pleasurable intrusion into his body, to have as much of Aragorn inside of him as possible as his body shuddered, and then his shaft, not touched by the Ranger the whole time that he had been inside of Legolas, spurted forth the evidence of his gratification.

Estel knelt there, gazing down at the winded Wood-Elf with a wicked, lusty grin. Without removing himself from the Prince’s body, the human ran his fingers up the Elf’s sides, causing Legolas to squirm with the ticklish sensation, and then to moan as the movement stirred agreeably the human’s arousal inside of his sated body.

“I hardly touched you, Elf,” the Adan teased, “and you are already satisfied.”

Out of breath, the Elf responded gaspingly, “You have been touching me for two months, Estel. It has been a long wait.”

Legolas let his legs fall to the bed, his body slack in its contentment, while Aragorn removed himself from the Elf gently. He swatted the Wood-Elf’s knee, telling the laegel with a smirk, “You are not the only one who has been waiting, but I suppose that you lasted longer than I.”

He had lasted longer than the Ranger, indeed, both in the wait for pleasure, if only by a few hours, and by the time it took him to find release, if only for a few moments longer.

Aragorn rolled from the mattress, his feet hitting the carpeted stone floor with deft, nearly noiseless steps when he walked from the bed to the washbasin. Dunking his oiled hands in the water there, he rubbed them together to clean them, grabbed a towel, and was already at the bed with something he had taken from the mantel before the Prince had noticed that the human had even left his side.

“Drink your tea.” The Ranger handed the immobile Wood-Elf a warm, ceramic cup of liquid intended to keep the ache in his thigh at bay. “Your mouth must be dry from hanging open for so long.”

 _I am glad that we did not do this in the river._ Shifting reluctantly his limp and relaxed limbs to accept his cup and drink from it, the Elf told himself, _Surely, I would have drowned._ He could not seem to manage to say this aloud around drinking his tea, however, and so merely smiled at the Adan as Aragorn gave the parched Prince a hard time.

“You are well, Greenleaf? I did not hurt you?” the human asked while taking the empty cup from the Elf, but then amended with a snicker of more good-natured ribbing, “Or rather, you did not hurt yourself?”

“I am well,” the Elf answered automatically, and knew it to be true. The scar was silent, his body unhurt, and he had Aragorn beside him. The Prince was as well as he could ever remember. He held out his arms for the human, who complied happily in entering the Elf’s embrace. “I am too well to think properly at the moment, I believe.”

Scooting to lie close beside his lover, the human’s rigid shaft rubbed against the Prince’s hip. He would see to the Ranger’s satisfaction in a moment – right now, Legolas merely tried to remember to breathe.

“Ah, but at least you are not in fear of drowning as I was this evening in the river.” Estel laid his head upon the Prince’s chest, his arms and legs entwined around the Wood-Elf, while Legolas laughed at the Ranger having echoed the Silvan’s thoughts from earlier. “It is lucky you surfaced when you did,” Estel continued, “else Galendil and Oiolaire might have jumped into the river to save me. My brothers would have tormented me endlessly once they found out about it, and you know that they would have found out.”

The laegel chuckled. “Perhaps not if they had found out _why_ you were standing slack jawed in the river.”

They lay in bed, pressed so tightly together that the Wood-Elf imagined that if his own skin were not so pale, he would otherwise not be able to discern where the Ranger began and he ended. They were two halves of something never meant to be whole, but they would deny their fate to remain with the other, at least until providence and inevitable mortality drove them apart forever.

Thinking not of these things but of how wonderfully the Ranger had taught him of the enjoyable gratification that they had shared between them, and though he was sure that Estel had never partaken of it without him, the curious laegel asked, “You have had no other lovers?”

The Ranger nuzzled his cheek under the Elf’s cheek, causing Legolas to lift it so that Aragorn could lay his head under the Prince’s chin and on his upper chest. Sighing in ease, the Ranger replied, his warm breath wafting across the laegel’s neck, as he explained, “None other.”

“Lord Elrond told you, then, of how to please another?”

Laughing with a short snort, the human told him, “He told me some of it, though of love between a male and a female.” Picking up a lock of the Prince’s hair, the Ranger twirled it around his finger: Legolas watched the human, waiting for Aragorn to continue, which the Ranger did with another laugh. “Erestor told me of sex between two males, and then only because I blackmailed him into it.”

“Erestor? Blackmail?” Legolas caught the Ranger’s thumb on which his blond hair had been wound, and bringing the digit to his lips, lightly bit the end of it, asking, “However did you blackmail Lord Erestor into sharing such information?”

The Ranger began to snicker at the memory, his chest vibrating against Legolas’ as he did so. “I caught him in the act with Glorfindel.”

The Prince exclaimed softly, “Erestor? And Glorfindel!” The Balrog-slayer was a fair and vivacious Elf – the thought of said Elf with the otherwise somber and staid, albeit comely Erestor was quite a mental image for the Prince.

“Yes. They were in the library one night, and I, being young and unable to slumber, went to find an appropriate, boring book with which to read myself unto sleep.” Laughing happily, the Ranger’s cheer turned into a soft grunt when Legolas lapped at his finger again. “At first glance, I thought Glorfindel to be helping Erestor climb the ladder to reach the upper shelves. But that they were mostly nude, panting, and very unhappy to see me evinced otherwise.”

While the laegel continued to bite at the Ranger’s finger, swathing the tip with his tongue after each nibble, the Ranger moved his head, tilting it up so that he could reach the Prince’s neck with his lips. Brushing his mouth over the underside of Legolas’ chin, Estel murmured, “Erestor did not wish any to know of his midnight excursions to the library with Glorfindel, as Erestor rather likes his privacy and Glorfindel’s reputation amongst the she-Elves would be ruined, and so to keep me quiet, I had him explain exactly what he was doing and why he found it so pleasurable.”

Unable to keep himself from laughing, the laegel admitted, “I had heard stories from warriors and even one of my father’s advisors of what love between two males intended, but I had never thought it could be agreeable.” Swirling his tongue over the Ranger’s finger, the laegel added, “Until you, Estel. And I don’t think I should find it agreeable with anyone else.”

“That is just as well, Legolas, because I don’t think I would find your participating in such activities with anyone else at all agreeable either.”

He bit down on the Ranger’s thumb, earning him a dramatic yelp of pain from the Ranger. Aragorn was teasing him, but the Elf teased him back, glad that the easy banter and mirth had returned to their relationship – especially in matters such as these. “That is not what I wanted to hear, human.”

“I will never seek pleasure with another,” the human said somberly, but then added with a growl of smiling possessiveness, “but I am yours to do with as _you_ please.”

The laegel laughed against the Adan’s head, blowing about the wayward strands of the Ranger’s hair, which had dried from their swimming but was now limp with sweat. “That is just as well, kaimamoroko,” the Prince told his lover, hugging the Ranger tighter to him, “because I am not through with you yet.”

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“But I am the one doing the swaying, or are you persuaded already, Greenleaf?” Lifting his head from the Wood-Elf’s chest so that he could stare into the bottomless, happy blue eyes of his mate, Aragorn hoped aloud, “Will you come with me?”

Legolas looked back at the Ranger in apparent confusion; he shook his head against the pillow, saying, “Where? Persuaded to do what? I have forgotten what you asked.”

The Wood-Elf was being intentionally ornery. Legolas could not hide the mirth underneath his mendaciously perplexed demeanor – not when the longer Aragorn watched him, the wider the Elf’s smile grew. From this alone, Aragorn knew that the Prince’s answer would be yes. His ploy not working to fool the Ranger, whose thoughts of being unaccompanied by any but the Wood-Elf had him beaming goofily, Legolas became suddenly serious. He told the human, “I will go with you but perhaps only for a few weeks – a hunting trip, if we might. I do not wish to stray too far until I know that my thigh will not hinder me should we find trouble.”

Seeing the wisdom behind the Prince’s request, the Ranger nodded and his enthusiasm did not ebb. Legolas had called it a hunting trip, but there would be little hunting while they were in the forest, not if Aragorn had any say in the matter.

“A hunting expedition, then, Greenleaf,” he agreed, but the Prince still appeared worried, so sitting his chin upon the Elf’s chest, Estel reminded Legolas, “we need not travel far. And if you wish, the twins could come with us; though I would rather they did not.”

At this, the laegel’s worry seemed to increase. The Wood-Elf frowned, his effort at hiding his underlying humor a valiant one, but still not enough to dupe the human. “Your argument has been convincing, but I am not certain that I agree just yet,” Legolas told the Ranger. The Elf’s hand slipped to his hip, where Aragorn’s navel lay against it. Seeking the firm manhood there, the Silvan added, “It sounds as if you are trying to lure me into the woods, Master Human.”

He bent down over the Elf, his mouth latching onto one of the few areas where the Prince’s shoulder was as yet unmarked by the Ranger’s rough kiss and burn from his bearded face. Quickly, he marked each pale spot, suckling at the sensitive skin of the Silvan’s shoulders and then his neck, before he moved up the smooth column of the Elf’s throat. He trapped the Prince’s lip between his teeth and pulled it into his mouth.

 _I will have him all to myself._ Legolas’ every smile, laugh, the Elf’s attention, even his body – all of these would be Estel’s while they were alone together, in the woods and as they should be, with each other and without the scar.

Letting go of the laegel's mouth, the Ranger promised the Prince, “Lure? No, Greenleaf, but do not be surprised if we come back from this hunting trip with no game.” His tongue shot out to lick across Legolas’ full, smiling lower lip. “However, if you still doubt me, then I suppose I shall need to sway you further,” the jubilant Adan told his lover, and set about doing just that. 


	4. Chapter 4

Legolas awoke with a start. There was someone in his room, and from the sound of it, that someone was highly frustrated. Soft mutterings could he hear of obscenely descriptive parts of a Troll’s anatomy, which were being compared to the mutterer’s current situation, or so it sounded to the Wood-Elf. Moving quietly, a curious Legolas scooted to the edge of the bed to peer over it; what he saw in the full light of the mid-morning sun nearly made him laugh aloud. However, not wanting to alert the grumpy mutterer of his presence, the laegel kept silent.

A naked backside jutted out from under his bed, shimmying and then almost disappearing entirely; the rest of the Ranger was hidden and it was this concealed upper body from which the cursing was coming. The Elf smiled, wondering, _What is Estel doing underneath the bed?_ He thought to ask what the Ranger did, but the comical sight made the laegel feel mischievous, and so, Legolas reached down and slid his hand over Aragorn’s rump, caressing one side of the human’s perfect, round, and very exposed rear end. The human’s reaction was instantaneous. The bed rumbled beneath Legolas, as in his surprise, the Ranger had jumped at the Elf’s touch, his head hitting the slats under the thick down mattress.

Before Aragorn had crawled hurriedly from beneath the bed, he asked the Ranger while chuckling, “Are you alright, Estel? You are not stuck, are you? Perhaps I should get your brothers to help me pull you out?”

Once free of the bed, the naked human sat on his heels on the floor, his face flushed with exertion, and also perhaps in embarrassment to be caught as he had in whatever he had been doing. Estel rubbed the back of his head with one hand, “That was not courteous, Master Elf.” The Ranger rose to his feet to glare down at the sniggering laegel, while rubbing his head again, “You startled me.”

“Did you think some wild animal had you?” Legolas asked teasingly. Not at all chastised by the Ranger’s false scowl, the equally nude and sleep-mussed laegel stood as well, stepping to Estel to take the human’s forearms in his hands, “What were you doing?”

Estel grinned sheepishly, opening his hand to show what was within and saying, “I knocked the phial of oil off the nightstand by accident and it rolled under the bed.”

The phial of oil in question lay in Aragorn’s open palm, and though full the night before, it was now empty. After Legolas’ massage and a night of reacquainting themselves intimately with each other’s bodies, the phial had been drained when in the early hours of the morning they had finally stopped their robust lovemaking to find rest. Legolas chuckled again in his mirth, not certain why he found the situation as amusing as he did, but unable to keep himself from feeling so buoyed by such a simple reason to laugh.

Neither could Aragorn keep himself from enjoying the situation, though perhaps it was merely the contagion of the Prince’s merriment that caused him to say, “I doubt my brothers would have pulled me free had I been stuck. They likely would have called to any passersby to come see the spectacle.”

They stood there for several long moments, merely holding onto each other while their laughter faded into a comfortable silence.

“How is your thigh?” the Ranger asked as he had each morning upon waking since Legolas had come back to Rivendell. “Does it hurt worse than last night? You did not receive much chance to rest it.”

“No, Estel. It is sore,” he told the human, his hands sliding up the man’s back just to feel the muscled flesh there. Laying his head upon the Ranger’s shoulder, he told him, “But no worse than last night.”

“What of the rest of you? Are you sore elsewhere, as well?” the Ranger asked, sliding his own hands downwards to cup there the laegel’s rear end as Legolas had done to Estel a few minutes earlier.

“Yes,” he admitted with another laugh, “but not unpleasantly so.”

“And you are still swayed into leaving with me on our hunting trip?” The human pulled the Elf to him by his hold of the laegel’s arse, pressing their groins together agreeably while Legolas wrapped his arms around the Ranger’s neck to embrace him in return. “Or perhaps you need to be convinced again?”

Both Wood-Elf and Ranger were beyond sated in matters of pleasure, and so neither one's body responded to this nearness. The Elf took a different pleasure from the human – he could feel the absence of the scar, the lack of the undermining voice that plagued him, the distance of his horrid memories, and the palliation of his fear that he would never be well enough to accept the human’s affection.

“I fear I will not be able to walk should you sway me any further.”

Laughing into the side of the Prince’s neck at Legolas’ cheerful jest, Aragorn gave the Wood-Elf’s rear a final squeeze and then hugged the Elf to him by enfolding the Prince’s torso in his powerful arms. “That is just as well. I am afraid I am all out of arguments this morn.”

 _Estel is in a good mood,_ the laegel determined, feeling much the same relief as the Ranger, and for the same reasons, as well. The last fear he had held – the same fear that Estel had kept concerning whether enjoying each other’s bodies would reawaken the maleficent voice – was now allayed. Although Legolas was not so optimistic or naïve to say that he was completely healed, he could at least say that he was still recuperating without any hindrances thus far.

“I will fetch you some more tea for your leg, so that it does not worsen its ache this morning, and also supplies for our trip.” The Ranger released the Elf reluctantly, telling him as he gathered and began to pull on his discarded clothing from the day before. “When I return we shall have a proper bath and the noon meal brought to us. Until then, why do you not pack your satchel? Ada will be expecting you for your afternoon meeting with him, and I would tell him then that we will soon be leaving for a few weeks.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Legolas watched the Ranger finish dressing and then leave, but not ere he had planted a final kiss upon the Elf’s brow. Once the human was gone, the Prince donned his robe and then crouched before the chest at the end of the bed. As he searched its contents, the Prince planned what he would need to take with him for their hunting trip, for if he had his way, they would be leaving before the evening meal.

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“Estel!”

The Ranger turned around to the source of the call to find that Kalin, Legolas’ fair Silvan sentry and friend, was sprinting towards him down the long hallway of the family wing. He stopped in his walking, allowing the Wood-Elf to catch up with him.

“Good morning, Kalin,” the human greeted congenially, resuming his walk though he matched the sentry’s pace to allow Kalin to join him in his progress up the stairs and towards the storeroom of herbs. “If you are looking for Legolas, he is in his quarters still,” the human told the affable sentry. “I go there myself in a moment, after I retrieve for him some tea from the apothecary for his thigh.”

“Tea for his thigh?” the sentry first asked of the human, his anxiety not at all uncommon to find in the persistently overprotective guard, but somehow out of place this morning, when to the overjoyed and anticipating Estel, there was nothing about which to worry.

Aragorn smiled at the thought of the laegel’s drollery this morning, of the late night he and Legolas had spent, sharing memories between enjoying loving bouts of carnal play. “Tea, yes, Kalin. Your Prince has taken too much exercise, and though it does not hurt him much now, we are forfending its ache before it resumes. If you wish to speak with him, he is awake and waiting for my return.”

The sentry sighed audibly in apparent relief, but told the Ranger, “I would speak to you first, Estel, if I may.”

The human nodded, but the sentry did not begin speaking. Instead, he followed beside Aragorn the rest of the way up the airy, lofty stairwell to the apothecary. Kalin’s silence led Estel to believe that the sentry wished to speak with him in private, without the possibility of passersby or servants overhearing them. He thought, _Kalin has never before sought me out to speak in confidence. I wonder what troubles him._

As they reached Elrond’s apothecary, both of them greeted a healer on her way out of the room: Kalin held the door for her, which earned him a shy smile and a soft thanks. Estel stood inside the threshold, a grin playing out across his face as he noted how Kalin stared after the she-Elf rushing her way to tend her patients. As if aware that the sentry was watching, the healer seemed to swing her hips ever so slightly, and she flipped her long black hair over her shoulders, looking back to them before she disappeared around a curve in the corridor that led onwards to the Peredhel’s council rooms and then the main stairwell.

Estel had always found the Silvan to be attractive – or at least, one Wood-Elf in particular did he find so beautiful – but as for the rest of them, with their pale hair and even fairer complexions, the Silvan had no troubles in finding love interests here in the valley of Imladris. Kalin had no lack of possible suitors, especially as he was almost as comely as Legolas, by Estel’s thinking. Because his position in the King’s court was a high one considering his relatively young age, Kalin was of especial curiosity to the Noldorin she-Elves. While many of the Noldor thought their Wood-Elf brethren to be unkempt and barbaric in nature, this only seemed to add to their mystique for others of the Noldor, and many unions between those in Eryn Galen and the Elves in Rivendell were the result of this initial attraction.

“She seems fascinated with you, Kalin,” he told the sentry. Leaving the Wood-Elf outside in the hall, he entered the storeroom to find what he needed, calling behind him, “Her name is Faelthîr, should you wish to know it.”

“Faelthîr,” the sentry whispered, entering the intentionally dark, cool room with the Ranger. “That is a fitting name, for her countenance is truly as radiant as Anor.” Following behind Estel, who was pouring into a clean teacup hot water from the teapot that was always kept full and steaming in the fireplace, the Silvan negated, “No, I could not choose a healer.” He jested half-heartedly in return of the Ranger’s teasing, “They are bossy and do not take well to being bossed about themselves.”

Aragorn laughed at the hidden barb at his, his twin brothers’, and perhaps even Lord Elrond’s obstinacy in matters of health and healing. “That may be, but Faelthîr is no ordinary healer. She tends the animals – the horses mostly – and sees that their battle wounds are cared for. The worst she might do is put you out to pasture, Kalin,” he joked with a snicker.

“You sound jovial today,” the sentry said, coming to stand beside Estel while the human worked.

“It has been a wonderful night, a good morning, and will be an even better day.” Picking through the many jars on the shelves, he found what he needed for the laegel’s tea: a mixture of silverweed, chamomile, and balm leaves would ease the Prince’s cramping thigh and keep it from seizing during their journey this day. Much like Legolas, Aragorn intended to be gone from the Last Homely House as soon as possible. He thought to share their plans with the sentry but decided it best for Legolas to tell his friend, for the Ranger knew Kalin would not be pleased to know that his Prince wanted to go unprotected in the wilds so soon after what had happened last time the Prince and Ranger had been travelling alone together. So instead, he asked, “Now about what do you wish to speak to me, Kalin?”

Kalin crossed his arms over his chest and leant against the counter close to Aragorn. “I am no longer as privy to my Prince’s thoughts as before.” The sentry did not sound sore when he said this, only concerned, and indeed, he smiled at the human when he continued, “Although it is likely because Lord Elrond hears all that Legolas needs to say. You and Lords Elrohir and Elladan keep him busy, and I do not see my Prince as often as I used to.”

Aragorn stopped his grinding of the herbs in his mortar, saying earnestly, “I am sorry, Kalin. You are always welcome to join us. My brothers would enjoy tormenting a new victim. They have grown tired of torturing me and they still coddle Greenleaf – and will likely continue to until his leg is healed.”

The sentry declared with a smile, “No, no. I am not complaining. As long as my Prince is in good company, then I am satisfied.”

From a peg stuck between the rocks in the wall, Estel took the perforated, mithril tea ball that they used for edible, brewed medicines such as what he prepared now, and emptied some of his mortar into it – the greater part of his herbal mixture he dropped into a parchment envelope and placed in his pocket to take with him on their journey – just in case the Prince’s thigh begin to ache while in the wilds. He closed the small latch to hold the two sides of the sphere together and the mixture within the tea ball, and laying its chain over the side of the cup, immersed it in the water, all the while waiting for Kalin to continue his speech.

It was only after the steaming water had begun to turn the color of pale bark that the Silvan began to speak again. He asked the Ranger, “Is he well, Estel? Do you think that he grows better?”

The Ranger ignored his task to turn to Kalin. In the dark room, the only illumination from the customary and perpetually tended fire in the hearth, the human could see that sentry’s lightsomeness of before was entirely gone. Something troubled the Wood-Elf, something far greater than of what he spoke to the Ranger now. “Legolas told us last night that he has not heard the voice since his arrival in the valley. His sorrow revisits him from time to time, but it grows less pervasive.”

The sentry did not seem at all assuaged by this answer. Having brewed long enough, the tea was a darker color and its smell was pleasant in the room. Estel removed the tea ball, emptied its contents into a bowl set about for such waste, and hung the implement back in its place to dry. _Whatever Kalin wishes to say, I hope he soon says it,_ the Ranger thought, bemused by the sentry’s hesitance.

With the tea for Legolas ready, Aragorn slipped from his pocket the empty phial of oil and placed it with a few others that needed washing. An attendant healer was in charge of seeing that this room remained stocked and clean, and would wash and refill the phial with whatever oil on which the apothecary was low. Aragorn took another phial of rapeseed oil from the rack upon the long shelf above his head, putting it in his pocket where the other had been – he would have taken two, had there been another one, for he intended to make good use of this oil on his and Legolas’ hunting trip.

At last, Kalin spoke again, blurting out in a rush of uneasy sentiment, “Legolas is protected here. He is loved, and there is none to give him cause to doubt himself. This peace he feels is fragile, is it not? What if it were questioned?”

Aragorn, who held his tray in hand and intended to leave the room, stopped short of opening the door to stare at the sentry. “Will you hold this for a moment, Kalin?” The Wood-Elf took the tray that Aragorn held out for him while the Ranger opened the door, allowed Kalin through it, and then shut the apothecary door firmly behind them. “Thank you,” he said, adding in response to the sentry’s query, “His serenity is not frail, my friend. Legolas is truly better and grows more so every day.”

As Estel took back his burden and started down the stairs, the sentry told the human, falling into step beside Aragorn once again, “That is good to know, Estel, for I spoke to a warrior in the barracks this morning, who overheard Mithfindl giving a message to Raveara from Lord Glorfindel, and moments later Raveara gave me the message himself. Lord Glorfindel and his warriors will be returning from their duty soon, and Mithfindl takes another contingent this afternoon to replace them.”

 _Glorfindel has surely heard that Legolas is here,_ the human mused, his attention more for the tray he carried and the liquid thereon that he was trying not to spill than for the Wood-Elf’s explanation. _But Glorfindel has yet to see Greenleaf._ Aragorn knew that the commander’s own conscience would be relieved to see the laegel alive and well. Glorfindel had left for the borders shortly after arriving in Imladris, and so had not yet seen the Woodland Prince. That the warriors returned with him was odd, for usually a warrior in the Imladrian border patrol stayed on the outskirts in his rotation for six months to a year – a very short time for an Elf, but this time even shorter, as they had only been gone for three months or so.

Kalin had mentioned this for another reason, as well, and though it took Aragorn a moment to realize the motive behind the sentry telling him of the commander and his warriors' return to Imladris, once he realized it, Estel felt his worry commence.

The base Noldo had been long gone when Legolas had arrived in Rivendell two months ago, for he had left with a contingent of warriors to join their counterparts along the relatively safe outlying lands surrounding Imladris. In fact, Estel had not thought of the Noldo much at all, for Mithfindl had left for the borders while the Ranger, Glorfindel, and the twins had still been traveling home from Eryn Galen. Aragorn had not seen Mithfindl since he had pummeled the cocky Noldo months ago, and had no wish to see him now. Kalin grabbed the Ranger’s arm lightly, impeding Aragorn from continuing his walk and his thoughts and jolting the tray in the human’s hands. The sentry said nothing; Estel could see the Wood-Elf agonized over the news he had shared, however.

“Legolas will encounter no problems from Mithfindl,” he replied, mustering as much assertion behind his words as he could, for he doubted them himself. “You say that he leaves with another contingent this afternoon to replace Glorfindel.”

The sentry admitted, “It is not Mithfindl about which I worry, Estel, although Mithfindl will be returning with Glorfindel, I have heard.” The Wood-Elf still had something else on his mind other than the silver-haired Noldo who had months previous accosted his Prince. Kalin fidgeted for a moment with the front of his tunic, turned to look down the hall to the doorway that led into Legolas’ quarters, and then returned his anxious gaze back to Estel. “Well,” the Prince’s guard amended, “it is not _only_ Mithfindl over which I worry.”

Growing impatient with the sentry’s hesitance, and growing tired of carrying the tray he held, Aragorn restarted his amble towards Legolas’ rooms, but again, he was stopped by Kalin’s hand, which seized the Ranger’s bicep and almost caused the human to spill his tea over the brim of its cup. “What is it, Kalin?” he asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

“Estel. Glorfindel returns because he escorts Thranduil.” The Wood-Elf frowned sympathetically at the Ranger. “King Thranduil comes to Imladris.”

Aragorn’s mouth went dry, his heart began to race, and he nearly dropped his tray and bolted to Legolas, though what he would have done after that, he did not know. Swallowing thickly the quick fear that Kalin’s statement brought, Estel balanced the tray in his hand carefully and tried to retain his calm. Even though he knew that Kalin would not have an answer for this other than what Estel could guess already, he asked, “Why? Why would he come here?”

The sentry confirmed the Ranger’s fears. “For Legolas. His Majesty will take the Prince back to Eryn Galen, I am sure of it.”

There were other possibilities for the King’s coming. Perhaps Thranduil only missed his son, perhaps he worried for him as a father should and wished to make amends for their violent parting. The human would not despair: Thranduil would be in Aragorn’s home, not in Eryn Galen. The King held no authority here. _Thranduil is not so foolish as to harm Legolas in the Last Homely House. He may keep his secrets from his people in Eryn Galen, but all of Imladris will know of the King’s propensity to beat his son should he try it again. He will not force Legolas into leaving._

“If Thranduil has come to take the Prince home, Estel, Legolas will not argue. He will wish to keep peace between Imladris and Eryn Galen, and he will go home with his father,” Kalin added miserably, once more looking towards the Prince’s door, though it remained shut and no sound was heard from within the rooms.

“Thranduil will not take him,” the Ranger denied automatically, although he realized at once that the sentry spoke truthfully, that Legolas would do whatever his father asked to prevent troubles between Lord Elrond and Thranduil. It was not a matter of state that his son return to Eryn Galen, but the King of Mirkwood would make it so just to ensure his son’s obedience. “Ada will speak to Thranduil.”

Whether the sentry believed this or not, he nodded, saying, “I hope that you are right, Estel. His Majesty has sent his courier, who met the border patrol to tell of the King’s coming, which is why Lord Glorfindel and his warriors return early. They will meet Thranduil to escort him and his retinue to the valley. His Majesty should arrive three days from now, or the day after tomorrow, should the weather permit.”

They stood for several minutes, neither speaking, for each was lost in his thoughts as to what Thranduil’s visit would mean for relations between Imladris and Eryn Galen, and if this would hamper Legolas’ recovery.

This morning the Elf had seemed healed – Estel had seen this in Legolas, could tell that his faer would suffer no more as it had, even should he never forget or the scar speak again. But this – this threw Legolas’ healing into a darker light, a more precarious circumstance. _There will be no more days spent in relaxation and play, no more time to let Legolas heal before he would return to his father come spring, now that Thranduil comes to him, instead._ Aragorn sighed. He stared down at the delicate cup of tea perched on his tray and wished that he could throw it against the wall to smash it. _There will be no hunting trip._ Estel closed his eyes, keeping them shut to stem the moisture that gathered there at the guilty thought, _I have let my lust threaten Legolas’ well-being once more._

He had hoped that last night was a step forward for the Prince, but now Estel regretted it, for he feared the return of the scar’s voice and what it would say when Legolas heard that Thranduil came to Imladris. He shook his head and opened his eyes to find Kalin staring at him with unveiled concern.

_Legolas will not suffer – not from the voice and not from his father._

The human’s mind roiled with anxious thoughts of what would happen now, but he pulled himself free of them. His Wood-Elf must be warned. “Come, Kalin. Let us tell Greenleaf.”

The sentry frowned his displeasure to be involved in this task, but nodded his assent and walked after Aragorn to the Elf’s room. The assurances he had only just made to Kalin seemed trite and overly optimistic to him now. Aragorn, no longer noticing that he spilled the Prince’s tea as he strode through Legolas’ door, pondered on how to tell his lover that the bane of the laegel’s existence was coming to collect him. 


	5. Chapter 5

_We will not need much,_ he told himself, shoving into his satchel the last of the things he thought he might require on their hunting trip. Usually, the Elf took more than one change of clothing, but given that Legolas expected he and Aragorn would only be wandering alongside the river, westward away from the mountains, the Wood-Elf did not bother. He could wash what he had just donned now, and himself, also, and dry both his clothes and his skin in the sun with Estel. Smiling at the thought of what he and the Ranger might do while on this trip, the Prince paused in his preparations. _We had better obtain some bread and fruit from the kitchens, just in case we never get the chance to hunt._

Legolas dropped his satchel on the couch and sat on the bed to wait for Aragorn, for he could hear the human’s approach; soon, Estel came through the door. The Ranger did not knock, as he once would have before they had become lovers, but this did not bother Legolas in the least. He could normally hear the man as he walked down the hallway, anyway. Like many Elves’ dwellings and even his father’s own halls, the walls and doors in the Last Homely House were built thickly to give the Elven residents some privacy amongst their brethren, whose hearing was sharp enough to overhear even whispered conversations next door in a human house of plaster and wood. Another Elf’s steps would not have been as audible, but the human trod heavily in comparison, and Legolas’ smile grew as his lover entered the room. He was beyond mere excitement to be leaving the valley.

He was surprised to find that Kalin walked behind the Ranger into the room in a much slower pace than Aragorn, for he had not heard the two talking outside his chambers. “Good morning,” he told his fellow Wood-Elf and turned his warm smile to the sentry.

 _Ah,_ he thought, _I will have to convince Kalin not to trail us through the woods on this hunting trip. I had not given thought to him, but only in evading the twins in our going!_

The fair Kalin looked anxiously at Legolas without returning his greeting and the Prince knew at once that something was amiss. Instead of trouble, Legolas’ mind turned to mischief, however, and he grinned wryly at both Ranger and sentry, adding to his salutation with insinuation, “It is strange to see you so early in the morning, Kalin. Is everything well?”

His mouth opening as if to speak and then snapping shut with an audible click of his teeth hitting each other, Kalin shifted on his feet where he stood close by the door. He opened his mouth again, but it was Aragorn who spoke, interrupting the sentry’s answer with, “I ran into Kalin on my way to the apothecary.”

The answer was really no answer at all, and Legolas, already uplifted and feeling fine from the previous night’s affairs, let the non-answer slide from his care. He remained watchful, however, and hoped that Kalin had not come this morning as he had last night – that is, to check on his Prince’s welfare and fret over his charge. Placing the tray of tea on the mantel beside a similar tray upon which the human had brought Legolas tea the night previous, Estel walked to the Prince, his face full of importance and hesitance, appearing as though he had something to tell the laegel that he did not wish to say or that Legolas did not wish to hear.

A knock at the door stopped the Ranger’s distracted aims of speech, and Estel halted mid-step and then glanced worriedly at the portal, as if fearing who he might find when he opened it. _What strange joke is this?_ the Prince thought, shaking his head with a smile, though neither Ranger nor sentry returned it. Kalin turned to grab the handle of the portal – the door opened itself, however, and through it came the twins. They offered no greeting, either, but came to stand beside Kalin just inside the room, giving the sentry and human a nod of greeting, but like Kalin, offering none to Legolas.

“Good morning,” he told his identical friends, while wondering what had brought the twins and sentry to his room this morning. It was unlike the Noldorin brothers to come to the laegel’s quarters so early in the day, especially considering that the twins were well aware that Aragorn stayed with Legolas in his rooms every night and they would not know what they might find upon entering uninvited.

The twins and sentry all stood still, their regard shifting between Aragorn and the Prince, until Elrohir asked his human brother, “You know, then?”

He thought for a moment that this was some prank, a payback that the twins and Ranger had concocted while Aragorn had supposedly gone to the apothecary for oil and herbs, one that they had drawn the less than willing Kalin into participating. _This may be their revenge for me trying to drown them yesterday._

However, the human nodded gravely, affirming to his brother, “Kalin told me only a few moments ago.”

Legolas sat waiting patiently for the end of their jest, for one of them to hold him down while the other poured paste on his hair, or for one of the twins to lose his unruffled demeanor, breaking under the strain of keeping his face straight for whatever joke they would play. They stared back at him as if the laegel might soon be the one cracking under pressure, however.

“We are all here, then,” he joked gaily to them, crossing his arms over his robed chest to wait for their prank to begin. “To what honor do I owe your presence this morning?”

“News,” the Ranger said. He sat beside Legolas on the bed, leaving enough space between them so that he could turn in his seat to face the laegel. The human sighed before he continued, “Glorfindel and his contingent of warriors return to the valley early.”

Thoughts of what might cause this, that Glorfindel or his warriors may have been injured or needed reinforcements, caused Legolas to sit up straighter, his mind already formulating how he, Kalin, and the other Wood-Elves he had brought with him to Imladris could be of help to Glorfindel.

“Is there need for us to ride out?” he asked, eager to assist the esteemed commander of Rivendell’s warriors in any way he could. “To escort them home or take them supplies?”

Again, the twins looked between themselves, and to their human brother, who spared them a glance as well. Unease blossomed in the Elf’s thinking – this was no hoax, no joke, and not the end of the news that they brought him. Legolas grew tired of their silence, and so queried with annoyance, “What is it?”

“Your father.”

Legolas stood from the bed, prepared to ride out to meet the warriors, if only to gain word of whatever had happened to his Ada. His heart began to pound in his chest. The solemnity of his friends and lover did not bide well with him. “What of my father? What news do you have?”

Standing as well, the Ranger grabbed Legolas’ arm, holding it in his hand as though to keep the Elf there with him. “A courier brought word that your father comes to Imladris. He should arrive in two or three days, depending upon the weather.”

Unexpected joy welled within him. His Ada had left Eryn Galen, a thing that had not occurred since before his Naneth had died, and he was well, he cared enough to leave his wine and moping behind to see his son. He thought to say this aloud, to show that he cared not a whit that the King would try to force him into returning to Mirkwood, because there was hope if the King cared enough to seek his progeny out across the mountains.

 _He cares only to embarrass me here in Imladris_. _He cares only to drag me back to Mirkwood, to see that I keep my promise to him still of ending my bond with Estel._

Legolas’ joyful smile wilted. The supposition was hateful and cruel, but Legolas was sure he was right. It was as the twins and Ranger feared, what he knew they feared from their worried faces watching his reaction to this news – Thranduil was coming to claim his son, to take him back to Mirkwood. His father had come to collect him, and short of letting his pride or his friends endanger relations between the leaders of the two Elven peoples, there was little he could do about it should Thranduil force the matter. He would have to return to Eryn Galen, else hold his ground and stay in Imladris and let everyone suffer the consequences.

 _I could stand up to him again,_ the laegel told himself, smiling at the inquisitive Aragorn with genuine optimism. _We were supposed to go into the woods,_ he was reminded by the bag he had only just packed and left on the couch. He had the urge to leave anyway, to pretend that he had not heard of his father’s arrival, to spend time with his lover without needing to worry over such things. _We will go. I will see to it. We will go eventually._

More important than his concern over his father’s impending request of him to leave, of which Legolas was certain would come, was the fear that Thranduil would bring allegations against Aragorn for his part in Kane’s death. This realization came to him, removing the last joy he felt from the prospect of seeing his father, the vestiges of contentment he felt from spending a pleasant night in the Ranger’s loving company, and the trace of hope that he could heal in Imladris. Indeed, though it had been the King who had dealt the final blow causing the merchant’s death, the Ranger had acted treasonously in disobeying the King’s orders. _Ada has found some new way of forcing his will upon me._ Legolas pulled his arm from his lover’s grasp and sat back on the bed, his mind awhirl with these new suspicions. Aragorn followed suit and returned to sitting beside him.

_Whatever he seeks to accomplish here in Imladris, it will only be the means to the end of making me return to Eryn Galen with him._

Little merit would be given to accusations against Aragorn for killing the merchant; at least, little merit would be given by Elrond, his sons, and if they were wise, Elrond’s advisors. Elrond’s people, however, would be given to their own opinions, based on the opinions they held for the human already, not all of which were favorable, as no one could expect all to think kindly of him. The Elf Lord had told Legolas during one of their many afternoons spent speaking of these things that he wished he had been there to see the merchant’s torment, that he would have gladly passed the same judgment on Kane as had Aragorn and Thranduil. Therefore, Thranduil would receive no backing for his charges from the Imladrian Lord, not from Kalin or Glorfindel, who had been there as witnesses to Aragorn’s violence, nor from Legolas, who would make publicly known the reasoning behind Estel’s actions, if need be.

This in itself was a problem. Few in Imladris knew of all that had occurred in Eryn Galen, and those who did were Legolas’ sentries or the most trusted of the noble family’s friends, such as Glorfindel and Erestor. Already all looked upon Legolas with pity, for they knew of his being attacked in the woods. They did not know of his father’s abuse. They were not aware that Estel, his brothers, and Lord Glorfindel had been threatened to leave Mirkwood. Estel’s reputation and ease here in the valley would be forever marred. Aragorn would suffer – Elrond and the twins, as well – all for Legolas’ burdens.

_If I allow father to come to Rivendell, then I am only visiting my hardship upon my friends once more. I will not have it._

Looking around him, the laegel saw that the twins, Kalin, and the human all watched his silent cogitations. He suddenly felt as he had not for some time, at least not from these people – he felt to be an oddity, something peculiar to be stared at and wondered about, and again, Legolas felt like himself no longer. He was a problem, not an Elf.

Legolas had little to say to his friends who cared and worried for him, but his conscience spoke for him, telling them, “I will ride out to greet Ada.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kalin had been right. Legolas would choose to return to Mirkwood rather than allow his father to cause a nuisance in Imladris, yet the Prince did not even wait for difficulty to arrive, but staved it off ere even learning if this was his father’s intent. Rising from the bed and making his way to the forgotten tea he had left on the mantel, Aragorn took the fragile cup from its saucer and handed it to the laegel. “Then I will ride out with you,” he told his lover.

Clearly, Legolas did not approve of this; he accepted the cup held out to him, arguing, “Your coming with me would only be seen by my father as a challenge, Estel.”

Quickly, unthinkingly, Estel responded, “And your riding out to meet him would cause your father to believe that you will capitulate to his desire to take you back with him.”

Aragorn noted the slight tension in the set of the Elf’s jaw, could see by the way that Legolas became instantly still that Aragorn had spoken foolishly, and had angered the Prince. The Elf looked down into his cup but did not drink from it. When he looked up at Aragorn, there was the same obstinacy in Legolas’ blue orbs that he felt himself. “I would yield to his wish to go back to Mirkwood with him if it came to it, Estel. One must choose his battles wisely, and having my father commence his incendiary actions here in Imladris is not worth my trying to persuade him to let me stay.”

“Let you stay?” the human argued, his mouth working more rapidly than his judgment. “You are a grown Elf! What right has he to control your life as such?”

“He is my father.” Legolas stood once more from the bed to take a step closer to the Ranger. “And he is my King. We have had this conversation before, Estel.”

He knew that Legolas was hoping to keep his father out of the valley if he could. If nothing else, the Prince would wish to calm his King, to find out his intentions, and thus to prepare for them before the King could act upon them in Imladris. Aragorn would not back down. He was not losing his lover to the King’s violence and vile persuasion ever again. “One is not bound to follow the words of a drunk or a lunatic, Greenleaf, King or not.”

Placing himself close to the Ranger who only the night before he had touched, kissed, and at whom he had smiled with love, Legolas said again, “We have had this conversation before, and you did not convince me then.” The mendaciously calm Prince warned in a soft murmur, his gentle tone belying the dark reprimand of his words, “Be careful how you speak of my father.”

The atmosphere of the laegel’s chamber was growing thick with the discomfort of the twins and sentry, who were not accustomed to seeing Legolas and Aragorn argue, not so fervently, and especially not about something as important to all of them as this. Their argument went deeper than the issue at hand but Kalin, Elladan, and Elrohir were unaware of its underlying history, unlike the human and laegel.

The sentry cleared his throat to gain attention, his hands out as if to keep the two lovers apart though he stood several feet away from them. He then said in conciliation to both the Prince and Ranger’s logic, “I must agree with Legolas that were you to ride out with him, by your presence, King Thranduil would believe himself not to be welcome in Imladris. It would not stop him from coming, but it would exacerbate his anger. However, Estel is right, also,” Kalin told the laegel, suggesting, “because your father will only see that you are running to him to do his bidding, rather than greeting him. Let him come to you, my Prince.”

Kalin diffused the mounting, mysterious antagonism between Elf and Ranger by telling his liege incisively, “Besides, your father would not enter Imladrian lands only to turn back without greeting Lord Elrond and his esteemed advisors, nor without thanking the Noldor for their hospitality.”

Kalin’s meaning was clear – Legolas intended to ride out to forfend his father’s coming, but this could not be done. Diplomatic traditions required Thranduil to be welcomed in the Last Homely House, if not stay, and so there would be time aplenty for Legolas to discern and perhaps stall his Ada’s intentions. The laegel’s shoulders slumped: he understood the wisdom behind this suggestion, as did Aragorn, though it benefited the Ranger all the more to have Legolas’ consent to stay in the valley and let his father come to him rather than ride out. _Since Thranduil could not wait until spring to see his son, at least now, when they meet again, Legolas will not be in Mirkwood without us to aid him._ The thought was comforting but did not assuage his worry altogether and from the continued, disgruntled glare that Legolas still gave him, the underlying argument between Elf and Ranger was not over yet.

Seeking to change the topic altogether, Elladan warned, “Mithfindl will be returning with Glorfindel to escort the King.” He moved closer to the bed and the laegel by it, but watched Estel, who had taken to pacing before the dead fireplace when the Prince’s penetrating glower became too much for him to endure silently.

Coming to stand behind his twin, Elrohir told the Prince, as well, “That crass idiot would never pass up the chance to ingratiate himself to your father. He seeks an office similar to his own father’s position, and plays the diplomatist for his own gain.”

The irate Wood-Elf had clearly not thought of Mithfindl’s arrival at all. Legolas frowned, his brows drawing together and then smoothing all in a moment’s time, and said, “Why should I care of Mithfindl’s comings and goings? I have lived through worse than his insults. He is no threat to me.”

From the angered and quite determined set of the Prince’s deportment – a stance and fierceness of features usually saved for the battlefield – Aragorn knew that his lover did not prevaricate. _At least we will not have to worry over Mithfindl’s effect on Legolas’ well-being._ He saw the twins smiling at Legolas’ words, despite his angered tone, and saw that Kalin was nodding his head in agreement with his fellow Silvan’s estimation of Mithfindl’s influence over him. Aragorn doubted that Legolas’ imperviousness would last through both Thranduil’s coming and Mithfindl’s subsequent annoyance.

They had argued over this very thing on their way to Eryn Galen those months ago and while in Mirkwood. Upon his coming to Rivendell, Legolas had claimed to be free of the King’s persuasion. It angered Estel that at the first mention of leaving, Legolas was ready to flee to keep peace for his friends when his friends and lover wished to fight for him. It angered Estel all the more that the Prince was prepared to surrender to his father’s bidding without the King even asking, with only the vague threat of trouble in the vale. After all these weeks of repose and enjoyment, of this time thinking that Legolas was healing, the Elf was already allowing his father to control his life. Legolas may not see it, but it was foremost on the Ranger’s mind and he would not let Thranduil take his son back to Eryn Galen without a fight, even should he be fighting Legolas, as well.

The sunshine of the growing day poured into the room, its weighty golden warmth lighting each mote of dust that drifted in the air and creating a deeper, ochre gilt to the Wood-Elf’s fair head. _I will have to make him understand,_ the human thought of the Prince, watching his lover gather his composure about him in defense like one gathers a cloak as protection against the wind. He did not want the Silvan to suffer the return of the scar’s influence and needed the Wood-Elf to relinquish his irritation so as not to push the Ranger away from him. Already Legolas had gone from ire to a strange, calm disassociation, but the source of it may only have been the Prince’s attempt to control his temper. _Thranduil is causing strife without his even being here._

Legolas pushed roughly past Aragorn to place his untouched tea on the tray on the mantel and then retrieve his boots from under the chaise. He sat on the bed to pull them on his feet.

“If you see your father, please tell him that I will find him later this afternoon,” Legolas told the twins, the plans for a bath with his lover no longer desired, their hunting trip stalled and perhaps canceled, and the laegel’s satchel of possessions to take with him sitting on the couch beside Estel but needed no longer.

They offered no argument to their gentle dismissal, but Elladan, as straightforward as his sire, queried directly while he walked to the door with his twin, “Will you go home with your father, should he ask it of you?”

By way of explanation, rather than an answer, Legolas said to his friends and lover, “Ada has not left the Great Forest since Naneth passed to Mandos’ care, and I can think of no reason for him to leave, other than war, and none at all for him to arrive in Imladris unannounced unless I am the cause of it.”

This did not please the twins, nor could Aragorn discern what Legolas’ meaning was in his odd statement. He would be sure to find out before Thranduil arrived, however, and so asked his brothers, “Ada knows that the King comes to Imladris, does he not?”

“He does. He was the one who informed us.” Elrohir opened the door, allowing Elladan and Kalin out first, before he told his brother and longtime friend, “Find us later today.”

Although Legolas did not answer, the Ranger nodded to his foster brother. Once the others had left, Estel scooted forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands dangling down towards the floor. With the twins and sentry gone from the room, Aragorn felt silent and strange. He had not expected anger to be the laegel’s response to his father’s coming, especially not resentment directed at himself, and so did not know what now to say to Legolas.

“Greenleaf,” he began to apologize for instigating the Prince’s umbrage when he should have been trying to comfort the laegel, to help the Elf through this new tribulation. “I did not –”

The Elf cut him off, his hands rubbing at his fair brow as he asked softly, without anger but leaving no room for argument, “Estel. Not now.”

Aragorn waited for what the laegel might say; however, Legolas did not speak, but merely walked out of the room, leaving the Ranger to stare after him. 


	6. Chapter 6

The Prince was pointedly ignoring the Elven Lord who awaited his answer. For his part, Legolas had heard the question and knew that Elrond would be patient in allowing him the time to make a response, but for the life of him, the Wood-Elf had no solution as of yet – or at least, he had none that would pacify Elrond. Legolas picked through the baubles on the shelf before which he stood, his interest real but its timing as a means of stalling.

When Elflings, Elrond’s children and their friends had been excluded from entering the study, unless their Ada was there also, although the Noldo being there with them usually meant that the Elven Lord was lecturing them for some misdeed that they had committed. Thus, the Wood-Elf had not been given much time to investigate the sundry anomalous items that the Noldo collected. At least twice that Legolas could recall, Elrohir and Elladan had convinced Legolas to enter the study with them to play or explore in their Elfling pursuits. Neither time had they been caught, but then, as now, Legolas did not understand the meaning or use of most of what was stored on the many shelves, in the cupboards, or the abundant tables and desks.

 _This is strange,_ he thought to himself, fingering the beard of the tiny statue of a Dwarf that appeared to be carved from soapstone. The crudely made figurine in question was of a big-nosed, stout little being that held a hammer in one hand and an axe in the other. _Who would want a statue of such an ugly creature?_ Not holding much admiration for the Dwarves, Legolas replaced the trinket and looked amongst the others on the shelf. Seeing leaf colored shards of glass that had been swept into a small ceramic plate, the Prince carefully extracted the plate from amidst the other items on the shelf to peer at the brightly colored glass. It seemed familiar to him, though he could not place what it had once been.

A hand fell suddenly upon his shoulder, and the Prince startled, the plate he held shimmying as he turned to Elrond. Removing his hand to take the fired clay platter, the elder Elf looked at its contents for himself and then said aloud, “Estel broke this marble.” He replaced the plate back upon the shelf and his hand back upon the Prince’s shoulder. Using this gentle touch, he guided Legolas away from the myriad curiosities that he was using for distraction and back to the couch where the Wood-Elf had previously been seated. “He broke it the night that you and he came to the valley after you were attacked.”

Legolas gave in and seated himself upon the couch across from Elrond. This same couch was where months previous he had admitted to the Elven healer of the scar, of the hateful voice that the seemingly disconnected part of his faer had spawned. It was the same place that the two Elves sat every few days to converse. Each of these meetings was but a short time where the Noldo would glean information about how the Silvan was faring, how his healing thigh was feeling, and whether his grief had resurfaced. More times than not, the younger of the two Elves would spend these meetings pleading for his Minyatar to believe him when he told the elder Elf that he was well, that the grief had abated, and that he heard the vocalizations of his grief no more.

“Do you remember the marbles that you gamed with when you, Elladan, and Elrohir would play stones? You chose the green set in reference to your name.”

Suddenly, the Prince recalled where he had seen the leaf colored shards of glass, for they had once formed one of the marbles of which Elrond spoke. He smiled, his uncertainties forgotten for a fleeting moment at the pleasant memory. When Elflings, the trio of friends had often played the game of stones upon the carved board that Elrohir kept to this day in his rooms, and this marble had been one of the set that Legolas had chosen to represent himself. He had not thought of the game or of the green marbles for many, many years, for the Elflings had turned to other diversions as they had aged, preferring instead to spar in the training fields, hold archery contests between them, and the like. Settling back into the soft, down cushions under and behind him, the Wood-Elf happily recalled a childhood that was often spent in the valley. His mother and Celebrian had been close friends and with her in the Last Homely House, the Prince had grown through many of his formative Elfling years among Elrond’s brood.

“I do remember those marbles. I will have to speak to Estel about breaking my toys.”

Elrond laughed, but Legolas knew his mistake when the healer quieted, for he had brought the laegel out of his distraction and back to the conversation. “Legolas,” Elrond said sympathetically. He reached out to put his hand on the Wood-Elf’s forearm, giving it a fatherly pat before he drew in a hasty, profound breath, then sighed it out just as rapidly. “What will you do?”

Without the diversions of Elrond’s collection of baubles and with the Elven Lord staring unwearyingly at him, Legolas was forced to admit, “I do not know.” He sighed, as well, and continued, “It does no good to decide how to react to my father’s arrival when I do not yet know his reasons for coming.”

Sagely, the elder Elf nodded his concurrence, but he told Legolas, “I cannot imagine your father traveling here merely to force your return to the Greenwood. He could have sent some of your people to fetch you, as he did before.”

When Estel had brought Legolas to Rivendell after being attacked in the forests of Mirkwood, the King had indeed sent Kalin and other sentries to bring the errant Prince back home. Thranduil had not come himself, even knowing that the laegel was injured and possibly mortally so. It made sense that there was some other reason for the King’s arrival and Legolas feared above all else that his father’s reasons had to do with the Ranger.

As if knowing Legolas’ concerns – and perhaps the astute Noldo did know of them – Elrond assured the Prince, “You know that I will not interfere, Greenleaf, not unless you wish me to. I would be happy to speak with your father about all that has occurred, but you and I both know that my aid would be likely be rebuffed. Thranduil will believe that I am trying to take him to task for what he has done. Your father is a King, and it is not often that his actions or judgments are questioned – even his personal decisions. But if he has come to threaten or make trouble for Estel, I will not hesitate to interfere regardless.”

He could see the truth in Elrond’s words, for he had come to the same conclusion and dreaded this outcome, as well. But his Minyatar had given him his word to let Legolas handle the situation on his own, and for that, the Prince felt his tension begin to dissolve. He did not tell Elrond that if his father had come to incriminate Aragorn that Legolas would do whatever his father required to see that it did not occur, so therefore Elrond had no reason ever to interpose on the human’s behalf. If his father asked him to jump from the falls of the Bruinen onto the rocky shore below, the Prince would gladly do so if it meant that Thranduil would leave the valley without strife or injury to Estel.

“Elrohir and Elladan will take their cue from you, I would hope –” he began.

Interrupting the Wood-Elf, the Noldo shook his head to say, “They will hold their tongues.” Elrond stood from the couch to hold his hand out to Legolas and pull the younger Elf to his feet. “Unfortunately, although my Elven sons are stubborn, my human son has more obstinacy than a tired mule. But fortunately, he is a man of his word, and if you speak to him, telling him that his aid is better placed in supporting you rather than protecting you, then he will at least try to be civil.”

After thanking his Minyatar for his advice and kind assurances, Legolas found his own way from the study. Through the colored glass of the many windows, most of which were open to allow in the soft, humid breeze that drifted from the river, light reflected off the tiled floor in a rainbow of colors in abstract shapes. Unthinkingly, the Elf walked around each lineation of dark and hued tile, as he might have when an Elfling. Speaking to Elrond always made the laegel feel young again, despite all his recent misfortunes, and it was with an eased temperament that he left.

 _If Elrond and the twins do not interfere,_ he thought to himself, _then Ada will have no reason to provoke Elrond’s rage. If I can manage to find out for what he has come to Imladris before he has the chance to make it known to the whole of the valley through some drunken fit, then no one else need be involved. I can resolve this on my own and only I will pay the price for it._

Outside the door to Elrond’s study, Kalin waited for his Prince. At seeing his fellow Silvan, Legolas closed his eyes briefly. Almost immediately after leaving his room – and thus Estel – this morning, his sentry had found him on his walk to the stables and had been with him since. He had cared for Arato for a short while to clear his mind, to garner some comfort from the familiar routine of brushing his stallion’s coat. While his true intent had been to have the time alone to think, and though Kalin had silently helped his Prince and cared for his own nearby horse without disturbance, it had been impossible for the laegel to give his father’s arrival any thoughtful deliberation with Kalin hovering nearby.

 _I doubt I will ever have a moment to myself again,_ he rued.

“Legolas,” his sentry greeted heartily and stood at his Prince’s approach.

Normally, or at least since his return to the valley these past couple of months, the Prince spent almost all his time with Estel and the twins. Even without being told that Legolas did not currently desire the infuriating human’s presence, Kalin seemed to infer that his charge was not spending his day with the Ranger and thus might be left to his own devices. Clearly, given that no one seemed to trust the Prince alone anymore, Kalin had taken it upon himself to be Legolas’ caretaker for the day. He tried not to evince his irritation at the sentry’s presence, for his fellow Silvan was indeed doing his duty in seeing that his Prince was safe, even if it meant keeping him safe from himself and his grieving faer. He was not accustomed to being coddled so much and he thought longingly again of the hunting trip that he and the Ranger had planned.

 _Leaving the valley will be the only way I can find peace, even if just for a short while. Maybe I could just sneak away by myself,_ he mused, but knew that if he were to leave unexpectedly, a slew of Elves and a very worried human would be on his trail immediately. It was a short-lived daydream.

Kalin fell into step beside his Prince. “Did Lord Elrond see to your thigh while you were with him today? I know you did not drink the tea Estel made for you this morning. Shall I see if a healer can make you more?”

His leg did hurt, but not so much that he cared to bother Elrond about it, nor did he desire to see his human lover, for he did not yet have his mind made up about how to explain to Aragorn that he was doing whatever his father required of him. “It’s fine. I think I will take a walk in the forest, though, to stretch my legs for a while.”

While he did not explicitly invite the sentry, he didn’t have the heart to refuse Kalin when his loyal Silvan sentry offered, “I will join you, then.”

Without speaking further, the two Wood-Elves ambled leisurely towards the nearest door that led out into the courtyard, and from there, they silently made a beeline to the wooded area beside the field next to where Glorfindel and his underlings trained the Imladrian warriors in the ways of combat. He could hear them in the distance, the sound of swords clashing and the distinct twang of bowstrings snapping, and the barely audible thwack of the archers’ arrows hitting the bales of hay used for targets.

 _The twins or Estel could be over there even now,_ he considered, walking more quickly at the thought. If he could not be alone, as he desired, then he would suffer the least company he could for now, and he did not want his friends to see him walking into the woods to follow him as Kalin did. Once in the wooded area, Legolas inhaled deeply the fecund scent of the decaying leaves of last fall, the sharp tang of the wildflowers that were underfoot, the sublimely fresh smell of the grass and leaves, and the wild musk of the various animals that were scurrying away at their approach.

It seemed too fine a day for him to have so much on his mind.

Without consulting the other, the two Silvan slowed their walk again, moving without hurry and several times stopping to point out wordlessly to the other some animal track or bird in the boughs above. Although Kalin had kept quiet most of the day, he finally broke his silence on the matter to ask his charge, “Will you leave the valley, Legolas? Should your father ask it of you?”

 _Every Elf – and one human – in Imladris intends to ask me this today,_ he joked to himself without true mirth.

Of all his friends, Kalin would understand most the Prince’s reasoning. He did not mince words or try to placate the sentry as he had Elrond and as he later would the twins and Estel, but told his fellow Wood-Elf succinctly, “You and I both know that King Thranduil will not ask me to return.” The Prince stopped to place his hand on the coarse bark of a maple tree, which seemed to hum under his loving Silvan hand. “If our King demands my return to Eryn Galen, of course I will return.” Coming to stand beside his Prince, Kalin placed his own hand on the tree, and if Eru had given the young maple a mouth, it would have been singing to feel such adulation from the two Wood-Elves.

Legolas did not need to explain himself to Kalin. In Imladris, though Elrond was its keeper and leader, the Elves and other races who were guests here had the freedom to come and go as they desired, to do as they pleased so long as it harmed no one else, and were beholden to no one unless they had pledged service in Elrond’s household or the warriors he retained. Perhaps Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel imagined that they understood what it meant to live under a King’s rule, but the twins and Ranger had never done so and so never seemed to grasp that for Legolas, his life and will belonged first to his father, his people, and the Greenwood. His faer, damaged though it was, he had generously pledged to Estel, but his faer was all that he could freely give away. They did not understand his guilt over leaving Eryn Galen to find solace in Imladris or why he bent so easily to his father’s will – nor could he make them comprehend. Although he did not want his father to commence trouble in the valley, for it would only harm Elrond and his family, Legolas’ imminent submission to his King’s will was ingrained within him through duty and honor, and not simply by familial ties.

Kalin understood completely, as Legolas expected the sentry might. He nodded his head and then removed his hand from the tree to rub at his forehead, saying, “I hope King Thranduil does not ask it of you. I also hope he does not hold you accountable for my ranting at him the night we left Eryn Galen.”

So much time had passed that Legolas imagined that Thranduil had forgotten or cared little to revisit the sentry’s words and deeds that long night that the King had tried to stomp his son into the ground – quite literally. He told his sentry, “I would not worry over it. If he had intended to seek his revenge against you for your actions that night or against Oiolaire and Galendil for accompanying me here, then he would not have let us leave to begin.”

Kalin seemed to deflate at his Prince’s reassurance, and Legolas was bemused to see that the sentry appeared more vexed than before. “I would rather he be coming to the valley to lop off my head for throwing him to the couch that night, if it meant you would not be the object of his wrath.”

“And I’d rather he come to visit his anger upon me than upon you, Galendil, Oiolaire, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Elrond, or Estel.” Unable to stop himself from snickering, which earned him a baleful look from Kalin, the laegel hooked one arm over the maple’s branch directly overhead and swung himself into the tree. The sentry followed suit and together they walked through the dense canopy into the next tree in the effort of looking for a place to sit. Finding an inclined branch with few smaller limbs near its base, the laegel sat upon it with his sentry soon beside him on a branch across the way.

“Surely the King would try to keep peace with Elrond’s foster son, while in Elrond’s own house,” Kalin queried, settling to face Legolas in his seat.

He thought much the same, but it was not whether Thranduil would harm or impugn the Ranger while here, it would be the threat of such things that would cause Legolas to buckle and break to his father’s will, even should his duty as Prince not be control enough. “I believe you are right,” he told his sentry, adding, “and even should he try, Elrond knows all that there is to know about what happened the night that Estel tried to kill the merchant, so he will not sit idly by while Ada accuses Estel, nor will he allow any harm to come to his sons. My father has a temper, but he is not a fool. He will know this.”

“So if he makes a threat against Estel, you will leave to keep him complacent, even should his threat be useless?”

As blunt as his sentry’s question, Legolas responded, “I will leave for Eryn Galen to keep Estel safe and to keep his life here in Imladris free of the worry that he might be labeled a murderer. I will leave the moment that Ada asks me to do so. But I will not pledge to stay away from Imladris forever or to eschew Estel. These promises I will not make again.”

His head nodding in agreement, the sentry then joked gloomily, “Then perhaps we should be packing.”

While said seriously, his sentry was trying to make light of the uncertainty of his Prince’s future, and Legolas laughed outright at the much-welcomed levity. “You may be right, Kalin. But as I told Elrond – we must just wait until our King arrives, and then I will deal with his ire and his demands.”

For a while longer, the two Silvan remained still, each of them thinking of what the other had said and given to their ponderings over their liege’s arrival. Although a summer midafternoon, the temperature was not as sweltering as the day before, and while neither Elf felt discomfort from the heat as would others of Ilúvatar’s creations, the laegel felt the warmth of the bright sun upon him as it filtered through the foliate vert around them. He had spent most of the night awake in loving play with Estel; Elves did not usually require as much sleep as others of Ilúvatar’s creations, either, but the heat and his worry made Legolas somnolent. He stifled a yawn. 

“I think I might rest a while, here in this tree.” Stretching out on the branch, the laegel felt the bolstering lifesong of the oak on which he reclined, his back flush to the bark and his long legs hanging on either side of the trunk. For a tree in this part of Middle-Earth, having a Wood-Elf so close was like giving an Elfling a sweet treat.

Of all the ways in which his long life had changed over the events of the last several months. When his grief had rent his faer and rhaw, he had felt disconnected from nature; having spirit and body rejoined had rehabilitated the laegel’s connection to the woods. He had not realized its deficiency when grieving, but now that it was renewed, he felt it more strongly and appreciated it all the more. “I have a trying conversation with Estel ahead of me tonight. I may need my strength.”

Although said flippantly, Kalin grimaced at Legolas’ portent and the Prince was aggravated for not watching his words, and then doubly aggravated that he had to continue to be careful in speech around his friends without causing them continually to doubt his well-being. “Go see the seneschal and inquire about the arrangements for the King and those who will come with him. I am certain Elrond will place him close to my own quarters, but please see to it anyway. I want Ada to have nothing about which to complain.”

Finally, the sentry seemed to acquiesce to leaving the laegel alone now that he had been given a task by his Prince, and although he still looked troubled, Kalin agreed, “I will, Legolas.” Dropping gracefully from the branch and onto his feet upon the ground, the sentry looked back up to where Legolas was sprawled comfortably upon the oak’s thin limb, his arm under his head for a pillow and his hair drifting amidst the wide, emerald leaves trembling in the breeze. The sentry hesitated a moment, though whether it was reluctance over leaving the laegel to his own devices or over his words, the Prince couldn’t discern. Looking back in the direction of the Last Homely House and then to Legolas, Kalin shook his head with a frown, questioning his Prince, “Since you do not wish Estel’s presence, will you promise to find me if you have need? Or the twins, or Elrond?”

If there would ever come a time when his friends would not worry over his every breath, Legolas did not see its arrival in the near future. He raised his head long enough to reply with as much sincerity as he could muster, and with as little irritation as possible, “I will, Kalin, I promise you. I only wish to rest.” He laid his head back down on his arm and closed his eyes against the bright sun overhead, adding aloud to Kalin though the words were for his benefit, “All will be well. You shall see.”


	7. Chapter 7

The sun had long set before Aragorn saw his lover again. He was sitting at a table in the great hall of fire, watching a band of Elves dance in sequence for the amusement of their brethren, when someone’s hands slid over his shoulders and to his chest where they entwined and remained. Even had anyone else touched him so intimately, the Ranger’s nose immediately picked up the faint scent of citrus and knew that it was Legolas behind him. _He is not angry with me,_ the Ranger sighed to himself, all tension leaving his shoulders at the welcome weight of his lover’s arms upon them. Although he and Legolas did not always agree, the human’s day had been strained as he had spent most of it pondering how to convince the Elf to refrain from bowing to Thranduil’s whims without further agitating the Prince.

The Elf placed his fair head beside the human’s dark one, his chin in the crook of Aragorn’s neck and his mouth next to the Ranger’s ear. “Do you care to dance with me, Estel?” he asked.

Snickering, the Adan told his lover, “You know that I cannot dance as well as these Elves dancing now. Unless you wish to suffer through the embarrassment of me stepping on your toes,” he exaggerated, for truly he could dance well enough, “then perhaps we should remain in the audience.”

Releasing Estel from his embrace with a laugh, Legolas pulled out the chair next to the Ranger’s and sat in it. Under the table, his hand found the human’s hand where it rested in Aragorn’s lap. “I would prefer not to remain in the audience, nor do I wish an audience – at least, not for much longer.”

When Legolas moved the Ranger’s hand within his own more closely to the juncture between the human’s legs, Aragorn squirmed in his seat. _Legolas could tell me that all the honeyed cakes are eaten and it would rouse my lust,_ he complained, though it was the laegel’s hand in his lap that was awakening more than just his desiring thoughts.

“Where have you been all this afternoon?” he asked the laegel, trying to keep his eyes carefully on the dancers in a vain attempt to ignore the Wood-Elf’s beautiful face, but failing. The Prince was smiling and he had always found it hard not to return the Elf’s gayety with his own grin.

He had already bathed himself that afternoon but had not taken any pains with his appearance, as he normally did not – unlike Legolas, whose hair was now woven into intricate braids and who had dressed in a dark sapphire tinted tunic that highlighted the fairness of his skin, hair, and was the same shade as his bright eyes. The tunic’s length was decorated in ornate silhouettes of leaves in white stitching, which matched the brilliant white undershirt he wore, while the soft, tan suede trousers the Elf wore hugged his lower half like a second skin.

Legolas had obviously desired to be observed. Aragorn undoubtedly took notice.

He was also not the only one with his eyes on the Wood-Elf. Despite having claimed Estel as his lover, it didn’t stop the curious she-Elves and even a few of the male Noldor from letting their regard wander over the Prince in appreciation of his exceptional beauty. His eyes only for the Ranger, the laegel did not seem to notice that he had caused more than one Elf in the room to gaze in his direction. As silly as it made him feel to be jealous over their stares, Estel responded possessively to the attention to his lover by scooting his seat closer to the Prince’s seat.

“I see that you have taken your bath,” he prompted the laegel when Legolas did not answer immediately.

“I visited Arato, spoke to Minyatar, and then took a walk with Kalin in the woods, where I fell asleep.” Legolas added with a smirk, “Apparently, I did not get enough rest last night and required more. When I awoke, I bathed, yes, and then came here to find you.”

Aragorn had been plagued by a fearful suspicion that Legolas might have ridden out to greet his father as he had wanted, rather than following Kalin’s advice and letting Thranduil come to him. However, Aragorn had not truly needed Legolas to tell him where the Prince had been – he had already sought out his father to make certain that the Wood-Elf had indeed come to visit him. The Ranger had spoken with Kalin, who had told the Adan of his walk with Legolas in the woods, and only a few moments before, the human had been given confirmation by the twins that earlier they had seen Legolas return to his room in the Last Homely House, where he had called for water to be brought to his adjoining bathing chambers.

Estel hated feeling that he was spying on his lover but consoled himself, _It is not Legolas I doubt; it is the scar._

“Come with me, Estel. If you do not wish to dance with me here, we will go someplace private.”

Without needing to be asked again, the Ranger agreed and followed the Wood-Elf from the hall of fire, for he wanted to speak with Legolas, to apologize. The Prince led the Ranger by hand through the Last Homely House with no self-consciousness in the action, and it was clear to all who saw them that the two were lovers. Nothing was said between them, although Estel spent their time walking thinking of how best to argue for the Prince’s staying in Imladris, regardless of Thranduil’s desire to take him home. When they finally reached their destination, Estel quit his thinking and was amused to find the Prince had taken him into the massive archives of the Last Homely House, which was nearly deserted at this time of night and also quiet because of the revelry in the hall of fire that had called most to enjoy their brethren, wine, and music.

“The library, Greenleaf?” He waited just inside the door, watching Legolas take from a table one of the many small candelabras that were kept just inside all the entrances. “Why the library?”

During the day, candlelight was not needed in the massive room of shelves, all of which held numerous books and scrolls that in all one’s life no Adan could have hoped to read, for the collection was always growing. No, during the day, the light came in through the full-storied windows on each outer wall of the great room and streams of illumination fell from the arched ceiling where many slanted shafts were placed in the stone to allow the light in but keep the rain and wind out of the room. At night, as it was now, only moonlight illumined the room. Plenty of candles were at ready should anyone need to enter the library at dark. Being that Elves were wont to sleep less than Ilúvatar’s other creations, there was always someone in the library during the night as well as during the day.

Without answering the human’s questions, the laegel continued in his task of lighting all the wicks on his candelabra from the oil lamp sitting on the table, kept there for this very purpose.

“Legolas?” he prompted.

The Elf sighed at the Ranger’s insufferable questions. “I have taken a long nap today, Master Human, and so I am merely eliciting your help in finding a suitable, boring book with which to lull myself to sleep.” Before him, the Elf gave him a lustful grin, “I will need something to wear me out, in any case.”

Recognizing immediately that Legolas was referencing the story that he had told the laegel the night previous about finding Lords Erestor and Glorfindel in this very library, performing acts together that Aragorn had then blackmailed Erestor into teaching him of – the Ranger decided with a chortle of anticipation, _If I had any doubts that Legolas was still angered, they are gone now._

He needed to talk to Legolas first, however. He wanted to know that the Elf was well and that it was for only lust that Legolas had found him in the hall of fire and had brought him here. He had the feeling he would not get the chance to speak of this as he would like to… not tonight. The Wood-Elf was happy and seemed as cheerful as he had been these past few weeks. The Ranger loathed ruining the ephemeral peace that would swiftly dissipate when Thranduil arrived.

The laegel took him deeper within the library, which was in fact not a single room, but many rooms that shared the same, open, vaulted ceiling. None of these alcoves had doors. They were separated by shelving that stood thrice as high as its patrons stood and were accessible only by ladders. Wooden pews whose backs were as tall as a grown Elf’s shoulders and long tables around which chairs were sat for studious readers were spread around the rooms. On the thick walls that supported the pillars holding the wooden beams of the ceiling aloft were hung tapestries and maps that showed as much the history of Middle Earth and her inhabitants as did any of the books. Although the two passed several Elves who were reading or poring over maps, none paid the odd pair any mind but continued about their tasks.

Into a particular nook did the laegel lead him, and Estel was charmed to see that Legolas had chosen a room much like the one in which the human had happened upon Erestor and Glorfindel, although the Ranger could not remember if it was the same one. This room was in the very corner of the library, as far from the more popular tomes of history and bound books of lore that most visitors sought. Two of the room’s walls were solid, their stone that of the valley into which the building sat. Its third and fourth walls were shelves of tomes, with the doorway merely an opening between the shelving, and another set of shelves arching over the entrance. Indeed, the whole room, Aragorn noted, contained books and scrolls dedicated to prose and poems about love and lust. _Someone planned this room for this very purpose,_ he decided, his smile growing to see from the Silvan’s mirroring grin that Legolas was well aware of his choice in rooms. They had encountered no one doing their studying too closely to where the lovers now were: Estel had to shake his head in disbelief at their luck.

Placing the candelabrum on the low table in the middle of the secluded room, Legolas then turned to Estel, his hands out as he asked, “Shall we dance now? Or do you wish me to ask the statue to avert its eyes?”

He made a show of glaring at the bust of some unknown Elf that sat on the low table, its alabaster glowing softly in the candlelight, and its open eyes and knowing smile seeming all the more fitting to this alcove Legolas had found. “He will be enough audience,” the Ranger complained mendaciously, “if you think he can keep from commenting on my poor dancing skills.”

The laegel laughed softly, his eyes smiling flatteringly as he accepted the Ranger’s form against his own and the human’s hands in his. “He will keep his peace, I am sure.”

The music emanating from the hall of fire sounded so distant to Aragorn that it was nothing but the intermittent wail of one of the stringed instruments that played its tunes for the lovers, friends, and families dancing there. To him, here in the library alone with his Greenleaf, he needed not the instruments in the hall of fire, for the laegel’s laughter was the melody by which they moved. The wine they imbibed in the Great Hall was not nearly as intoxicating as Legolas' loving visage. After a day spent in worry that the Prince was irate with him, the human was reminded once more of how lucky he was to have ever met the laegel, to have kept their friendship strong even when there had been several years in which they had not seen the other at all, and how fortunate he was now to be able to enjoy the laegel as his lover. He was also reminded of how easily all these boons could be lost. Stepping closer to Legolas, until there was no gap between their swaying bodies, Aragorn felt suddenly very protective of the Elf before him as he remembered the cause of their disagreement this morning and how it was yet to be resolved. If there existed any wedge that could be driven between Elf and Ranger, it was Thranduil. The Silvan had suffered too greatly, had been excruciated not only by Edain for their pleasure, but by his father for his grief, as well – a father who would now come to Imladris to harm the Prince once more, Aragorn was certain of it.

_I will lose him. He will leave me; there will be no nights spent like this one. Perhaps not ever again. Who knows what Thranduil will do to ensure it? If Greenleaf returns to Mirkwood while his grief is still so near, how do I know he will not succumb to it? His father will not keep him well. His father will not see to it that he eats, that he takes the proper exercise, and that he has his medicines and a gentle hand to soothe his aches at night. Thranduil will only cause him further harm._

Bitterly, the Ranger hissed, his mood soured and spilling from his thoughts out of his mouth, “Why can he not stay in Eryn Galen? You told him you would return next spring.”

Legolas laid his head on the Ranger’s shoulder with weariness to be speaking of his troubles again. Knowing exactly of whom the Adan spoke, the Silvan said, “He is coming. Nothing can be done for it. It is as Kalin says: Ada will not be swayed from leaving before his purpose in coming is accomplished.”

“I will not lose you to your father’s anger again,” the human proclaimed vehemently to his lover.

“And I do not wish you standing in front of me, shielding me,” he told the Ranger, slipping his arms under the human’s to wrap around Estel’s middle, “but if you would stand behind me in this, I would be indebted to you.”

With the King soon coming, his Greenleaf would need to have his lover’s support, regardless of what decision that Legolas made concerning his father’s appearance. Realizing his folly, Aragorn felt ashamed that he had worried more for keeping the Prince with him, rather than worrying that Legolas would remain healthy and continue to heal while his father was here.

_If I do not stand back and let him make these decisions with his own good judgment, then I only show him I do not trust him. I am acting as Thranduil, once more. I cannot control him, even if in doing so I am trying to keep him safe._

He meant to say this, but Legolas murmured something unintelligibly against the human’s neck, before he stepped away from the human. “Estel,” the laegel whispered, pushing the human tenderly, which incited Aragorn to walk backwards with Legolas following him, keeping the Ranger moving, until Estel’s back touched against the tall shelves of books behind him. “Tell me what you saw Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor doing here in the library.”

“I only saw a small part of it,” the Ranger replied, his apology forgotten. He told the Elf, “But I can envision what occurred before my untimely arrival.”

“And what would that be?” the laegel asked, leaning closer to the human.

The Ranger grabbed the Elf’s hips, pulling Legolas’ lower half to him until the Prince’s body leant against his own, which in turn was supported by the sturdy shelf behind where he stood. He caught the Silvan’s mouth with his own, delving between the laegel’s lips with his tongue. Estel ran his lingua along the clean, white teeth that barred his entrance ere Legolas removed them and the human explored the laegel’s mouth thoroughly. Whilst he bathed, the Wood-Elf was wont to chew the leaves of the mint plant to clean his mouth and it was on the Elf’s lips now.

“I can imagine Lord Glorfindel and Erestor doing this. Erestor has always seemed a rogue to me.” The Prince’s lips were ruddy and full from the bruising kiss that Aragorn had just placed upon them: Legolas licked them, his rosy tongue darting out to wet them. Once the Elf’s tongue was back inside his mouth, Estel repeated the action for him, his own tongue briefly sweeping across the Elf’s mouth in like motion. Legolas allowed this and then began placing teasing busses along the underside of the human’s whiskered jawline, his minted and moist lips lingering on the pulse of Aragorn’s heartbeat where it moved beneath the flesh of his neck in alacritous anticipation. The Elf asked between kisses, “Would that make you Erestor or Glorfindel?”

Aragorn contemplated this for a moment. He moved his head upwards to allow the Elf’s questing, suckling mouth better access. “I would be Glorfindel and you Erestor. You are gracious and well-mannered, lithe and not brutish and stout as is Glorfindel, as am I.”

“Ah, but you are dark and beautiful, as is Lord Erestor, while I am light of hair and skin, as is Glorfindel.” His hands already working free the tunic that Aragorn wore, Legolas added with a snigger of miscreant delight, “If only Lord Glorfindel knew you thought him to be brutish!”

Their lighthearted argument ended when the Silvan slipped his hands down past the waist of Estel’s trousers, forgoing the ties and belt there in his hurry to feel his lover’s length, tugging at it gently but unable to feel it as he wished. It was not enough for the Elf. He removed his hands from the man’s trousers but kept them on the Ranger’s waist as he dropped to his knees. The moment his knees hit the stone floor, he was untying knots. Aragorn stood there, letting the Prince free his manhood.

Admiring the Adan’s desire, Legolas looked up to Aragorn, simpering lasciviously as he wondered aloud, “Do you think that Lord Erestor was as aroused as you are right now?”

The Elf played with him: he ran his fingers along the man’s shaft, and when at the head, he thumbed the end of Aragorn’s manhood such that it bobbed up and down before returning to its straight, rigid state. Aragorn answered, his body responding even further to the gentle touches and the reminder of the machinations of Legolas’ well-planned game, “What I remember of his cries of pleasure, he must have been.”

“Cries of pleasure?” the Elf queried to himself. Eagerly, the Silvan engulfed the human’s shaft within his mouth, the length of firm flesh disappearing between Legolas’ ruby, swollen lips.

Indeed, the Adan cried out his pleasure, though he did not think of it as carrying on their diversion in recalling his memory from long ago. His hands sought to touch Legolas, but he could only splay them behind him on the shelf, holding up his weight while the Elf on his knees before him barraged the man’s legs and lower belly with his hands, pulling and pushing at the Ranger and throwing Aragorn off balance. For several minutes, the Elf touched the human wherever he could, suckling the man’s shaft while the Ranger could do little more than pant his fervent approval. He tried to keep quiet, mindful of the presence of others in the library, but it was hard to do when the wanton Elf carried on so. The Silvan’s tongue moved languorously around the Adan’s cock, massaging the underside of Aragorn’s member until the human could not help but to buck forward, seeking release from his lover’s mouth.

He was denied.

The Elf let the Ranger’s length fall from his lips, turning his attention instead to the skin of the man’s belly, his thighs, nipping and laving with his tongue across the softly haired flesh. His voice husky, Legolas inquired, “When did you walk in on them, Estel? What were they doing?”

“Not yet,” he said brokenly, his mind not capable of forming a coherent thought. “They were well past this.”

“Then it is your turn,” the Prince demanded, sitting back on his heels and pulling from his pocket the phial of oil he had stowed there, which he then showed to the human with a lascivious grin.

Quite clearly, Estel could recall what he had seen that night years ago. Erestor had moaned Glorfindel’s name while the commander had taken the dark advisor, slowly but firmly thrusting into Erestor’s body – the sight, at the time, had not seemed very pleasurable to Aragorn at all, not until he had grown older and had fallen in love with a certain Elf Prince from Mirkwood.

Deep chestnut hair lined the middle of Estel’s belly – Legolas followed this path upwards, his tongue playing across the tight points of flesh upon the firm muscles of Aragorn’s chest, before he stood completely to claim the Ranger’s mouth with his own. Estel could taste himself on the Elf’s lips and it made him want to taste his lover instead. He fell to his knees so that he could do so and ordered, “Turn around.”

He loved this Elf standing before him, looking down at him as he unlaced his own trousers for Estel's attentions. Legolas did as he was asked and turned around, his hands holding onto the shelf of books before him and his knees bent slightly, his back curved, so that his rear stuck out pleasingly. “And here I am, standing behind you as asked,” the human teased, recalling their conversation of just a few minutes ago.

“I believe this bookshelf is supporting me more than you at the moment,” he returned, which earned him a chuckle from the Ranger. “Although, I’ve never been much on poetry. Books of war would likely do me better.”

Aragorn uncapped the phial, pouring some of the sweet smelling oil onto his fingers. Before he entered the Elf's body with his slippery digits, the human pressed his lips to the backs of Legolas' thighs, moving upwards to the underside of one cheek of the Prince's rear. Here, he nibbled at the skin, pulling it between his teeth and then holding it with suction within his mouth, tugging at the flesh with his lips.

With his hands, he spread the Elf's rear to see the star shaped aperture there. Smelling of the citrus soap oil he favored, the laegel’s flesh was scrubbed fresh and smooth. Legolas’ body was nearly hairless, as were most of the Elves, except for the flocculent flaxen fleece around his shaft. Even without the thick pelt of hair that Aragorn had, the Elf did not appear juvenile – the laegel was too muscled and well made to be mistaken for a youth. Here, in the most private area of his body, Legolas was without much hair, as well, and when Aragorn ran his tongue along the inner flesh between the cheeks of the Elf’s rear, it felt to the Ranger’s tongue as if he tasted the mellifluous skin of a ripe peach. Flicking his tongue around the Silvan’s breach, the human then teased the opening with one finger, sliding it across the silky skin, and then with the very tip of one digit, penetrated the tightness only a little. He waited, unwilling to hurt the Elf; however, Legolas seemed to push back to make the human enter him further. Estel's finger glided easily into the Elf. Although he was muscled and firm without, within his Greenleaf was sericeous. Estel slipped his long, oil-slicked digit deeper inside, seeking out in Legolas the same place that was within himself – the small, soft rise that would bring the laegel immense pleasure when kneaded.

He knew he had found the spot when Legolas grumbled low in his throat, the Elf's body jerking as the Ranger's practiced fingers brushed over the area again. Estel pushed the laegel's legs farther apart so that he could crawl between them. With his finger never leaving the Elf's opening, the human crawled betwixt the Prince's legs and turned his body to face the front of the Elf. When looking up, he could see Legolas watching him, wondering what Estel meant to do. The Elf's shaft was now before him, and adding another finger to the first inside of his lover, Estel took the Prince's length into his mouth simultaneously. The Elf's rumbling became a growl when after a few moments of his gentle preparations and loving attentions, the human added yet a third finger, stretching the Elf agreeably.

“I doubt Glorfindel doing this for Erestor,” Legolas told him gruffly between muffled huffs of quick breaths intended to keep their activities beyond the hearing of any nearby. “He is not as imaginative as you.”

He laughed around the Elf's shaft, which let it fall from his mouth. Looking up, Estel replied, “Then perhaps I should speak with Glorfindel about his brutish ways or give him some advice on sexual matters.”

Legolas shook his head with a grin, his eyes closed, and his brow furrowed, for the human had not stopped his fingers’ motions within him. When he tried to resume pleasing the Elf, however, the Prince told him, impatient with lust, “Fill me, Estel.”

He scrambled back between the Elf's legs to stand behind him, the concupiscence of the demand heightening his own desire. He removed his leggings to let them pool at his feet on the floor, while the phial he took in hand again, pouring more of its contents onto his palm and then slicking it across his own shaft.

“Stop me if I hurt you,” he told the Elf, who grunted in agreement.

Moving with his shaft as slowly as he had his finger a moment before, the human pressed the head of his length against the Elf's opening, hoping that he had prepared the Prince enough not to hurt him, and breaching the Elf with only the very tip of his arousal.

“More,” the Wood-Elf susurrated in a needful whisper and tried to push back onto the man's shaft, though Estel held his hip to try to keep him from impaling himself painfully upon the human.

Legolas’ impatience was clear, and so, Aragorn finally penetrated the Elf's body fully. Although this was not the first time he had taken his lover this way, each time the human did he thought that he had never felt anything so glorious as the Wood-Elf’s body. The Prince fit him snugly: his opening was blisteringly warm. Legolas tensed his inner muscles, gripping the human's shaft and squeezing him as he moved backwards, sliding himself upon the human's shaft impishly, before he pulled away with a gasp. Already Estel was to the point of release; his body was pushing forward, driving his shaft back into the Silvan’s primed body. His game of replaying what had occurred between Erestor and Glorfindel was currently forgotten. The memory could never have been as vivid as the one that the Elf and Ranger created now. He began to move, rocking himself forward unhurriedly, letting the cadence of their lovemaking be decided by the sounds of the Elf's bliss. Reaching around his lover’s body, the human took the Elf's shaft in his oiled hand, his fingers lighting upon the swelled and needy flesh in playful, dawdling caresses.

When the Silvan tightened his interior muscles again in response to the human's teasing touch, Estel stopped his languid thrusting. “Do not do that, Greenleaf, please, else you will undo me,” he beseeched with a moan. “Let me enjoy you.”

Legolas did not comply. He pressed down upon the man's shaft again, clutching with his innermost body the firm flesh within, but his plan was turned upon him, for between his nimble fingers the human squeezed with equal pressure the Prince's shaft.

Their movements were no longer slow and unhurried. Unable to see Legolas' face to be sure, Aragorn relied upon the Elf's libidinous breathing to ascertain that the Prince was well and in no pain, for Legolas was pushing back against Estel harder than the human was propelling himself forward and into the Elf. In robust, long strokes, the human worked the Silvan's body, each drive inside of the Wood-Elf's channel eliciting a cry from Legolas as the human's aim was true, and the Elf received no respite from the continual, pleasuring bombardment against the sensitive swell inside him.

“Estel,” the Elf sibilated, drawing out the human's name in a hiss of pleasure as his seed sprayed out in the cupped palm of the man's fondling hand.

He had not thought that the embrace in which the Elf's opening held his shaft could grow any more intense, warm, or pleasing. Estel had been wrong. Such pressure did he feel upon his shaft that he felt it to be nearly painful, though it did not stop him from pushing into the Elf. His own release taking longer than the Prince’s, he pulled away and pushed into his lover repeatedly, trying to control his ardor so not to hurt the Elf, but unable to stop his lust from overtaking him. Legolas only encouraged the Ranger, though, and with his hands on the shelf before him, pressed himself wildly back into the human, increasing the speed with which the Adan’s member moved inside him, and rhythmically tensing his innermost muscles until the Ranger found his own peak with a snarl that he stifled against the Wood-Elf’s back. He released himself in the depths of Legolas’ body, which clung to him, wringing the last of Estel's seed until both man and Elf were depleted.

Aragorn removed himself slowly from his lover’s body, though he did not move away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the Elf's heaving chest, pulled the Silvan into standing upright rather than leant over, and anxious, turned the Prince so that he faced the Ranger.

 _I have been too rough with him,_ the Ranger worried instantly, fearing that he had hurt the Prince with his overzealousness. But in turning the Elf around, he saw that there was no pain in Legolas' eyes. Estel breathed easier; he smiled at the Elf, drawing his lover to him, though with his trousers pulled down to his feet and the Prince's in similar state, they both stumbled. The Prince laughed heartily at this, which lightened the Ranger's mood even further, as he was ever apprehensive over Legolas' grief returning to him during intimate moments such as this.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let us find somewhere to sit,” the beaming human suggested, out of breath and shaking as if cold.

After dressing themselves, the two did not move far from their secluded alcove in the library. Instead, they sat on the floor nearby, Legolas with his back against the stone wall, and Aragorn before him, between the Elf’s legs.

Settling against the lissome chest behind him, Estel teased, “I will have to anger you more often if this is the result of your forgiving me for it.”

“I was not angry with you this morning – not for long, anyway. I am more upset with myself.” Legolas sighed into the man’s hair and felt Aragorn’s hands as they drifted, as if by instinct to keep the Elf happy and comfortable, to the scar on the Prince’s thigh.

“Then what has you in such a good mood, my love?” the Ranger queried, massaging the aching muscle there. Since he had not had his medicines that morning and had imbibed none this day, Legolas’ thigh did hurt him, especially after their play this night. Other parts of him were sore, as well, but it was a most pleasant ache that he was glad to have obtained. He thought he would not soon grow tired of having his lover inside him.

The Prince untangled his uninjured leg from under the human’s body and draped it over the closest of Estel’s long legs. “Minyatar. After speaking with Lord Elrond, I am less worried about my father’s visit.”

“And why is this, Legolas? What did Ada say to you?”

“He promised me that he would not interfere, that he would see to it that the twins held their tongues and kept peace with my father.” Laying his cheek on top of the Ranger’s head, he told the human, “And since you have promised not to meddle, as well, I can deal with my father on my own.”

“I never promised not to interfere.” At the Elf’s raised brow, the human consented, “But I will not meddle. It is as you say. I have been blinded by worry into treating you like a child, and for that I am sorry, my love.” The Ranger seemed to tense, and he shifted where he sat, twisting his hips so that he could face the Wood-Elf. “I promise that whatever you need from me to make your father’s visit less demanding, I will provide, and whatever your decision may be to whatever his demands may be, I will stand behind you in it.”

 _Then there is nothing over which to worry, as long as Ada comes here to torment me, and not Estel,_ the laegel told himself as they sat in a contented silence. He ran his hands along the human’s chest, hugging the Adan closer to him at the thought. Truly, nothing worse could he imagine than the King trying to hold the Ranger accountable for his actions in Thranduil’s halls. Whatever Legolas could do to stop this, he would see it done.

“Do not leave me, Legolas,” the Ranger implored unexpectedly, his voice muted and his kind, bearded face naked with alarm. This gentle demand was the closest that the human would get to begging the Prince for this.

It tore at the Elf to see his lover upset. “After greeting my father, we will go on our hunting trip, Estel. Even should he desire for me to leave with him, I will stay here with you,” the Prince promised. “I will stay at least until spring, as I told him, and as I told you when coming here. In spring we will have to part for some time, I know, but soon enough we will be together again. We cannot allow my father to ruin our time together when it is short enough as it is.”

The human breathed in deeply and let loose his ragged breath, returning to his position of lying against the Prince. Though he could no longer see the man’s face, he heard the smile in his voice as he teased, “Good. You cannot leave your kaimamoroko to sleep alone through this winter.”

 _I am not lying,_ he argued, feeling guilty nonetheless. If his father wanted him back in Eryn Galen, he would go – the King was cunning enough to use the Ranger to ensure his son’s return, and the only way that Thranduil could do this, in Elrond’s home and outside of his own reign, would be by asking for the Ranger to receive his just punishment for treasonous acts in the Greenwood. The threat of this would be enough to ensure Legolas’ compliance, for Elrond would never allow it to happen, but the Prince lacked the heart to tell the human this truth. As he had told Kalin, the debacle and ensuing repercussions of Thranduil’s demand for justice not being met would cause the King's outrage, and Legolas would not endure his family to be torn apart when he could easily mend it by leaving with his father back to the Great Forest.

 _It is not a lie,_ he reassured himself again, his shame augmented upon feeling the human’s relief at his promises. Protecting Aragorn was the only acceptable reason he could find for his misleading the Ranger. Moreover, he had asked the human to support him, not to try to protect him and thereby earn Thranduil’s rage, but Legolas stood ready to incite or endure his father’s rage to protect the Ranger. The hypocrisy in this did not go unnoticed by the Prince.

“This is certainly something that Glorfindel and Erestor were given no chance for,” the human told his lover, interrupting the Elf’s thoughts.

“What do you mean?” he asked, glad to be drawn away from his unhappy ponderings, since he should be basking in this quiet moment with Estel. He knew there would be little chance for such peace when his father arrived.

The Ranger harrumphed, saying, “As I recall, after they noticed I was standing nearby, my mouth hanging open and my innocent eyes forever marred by the sight of my two teachers doing strange things to each other, naked and panting here in the library, Lord Glorfindel grabbed his robes and stalked off, leaving Erestor to explain to me what they had been doing!”

Legolas laughed along with the Adan and let the Ranger’s humor clear his concerns. He laid his head atop the human’s once more, hoping with all of his being that he would be able to remain with his lover.


	8. Chapter 8

They sat by the old oak tree to enjoy the warm sun. Or at least, the Elves were enjoying the humid summer weather – Aragorn had scooted into the shade, his tunic off and his undershirt undone, as the human’s agitation was growing in tandem with the heat. Legolas sat with the twins in the full splendor of the sun, where despite that their own tunics and undershirts were on, neither Elladan, Elrohir, or the Prince felt the calidity as did their human companion.

 _Perhaps it is time to go swimming,_ he thought to himself, watching his lover’s discomfort.

Normally, the Adan was not so affected by the warmth; today, however, the laegel had kept his Ranger busy in the fields, where they had been practicing their swordsmanship against the other from morning until now, late afternoon. Legolas had not taken exercise so strenuous in the past months of his being in the valley – not outside the bedroom. As a guest, he had no duties in the Last Homely House. He could spend all day swimming in the river or practicing his archery, should he wish. As a human and Ranger, Estel had no duties in his adopted father's home either, lest he should he offer his service in some way. With neither of them required elsewhere, Legolas and Estel had taken to the fields early so that the Elf could stretch his aching leg and they both could hone their skills before the Imladrian warriors used the fields for their own training, as they were doing now.

Watching the warriors who now practiced their archery on the field close by, Legolas rubbed at his thigh. It ached no worse than this morning but fared no better, either. It had also not given way a single time during his and the Ranger’s brawling, tumbling, and sparring – much to the Prince’s delight. Only the pain could possibly have bothered him, though this he had grown used to enduring. He intended to be fully prepared to leave on their hunting trip soon, delaying their departure only until he discovered the reason for his father’s excursion to the valley, just as he had promised Aragorn. Not having heard the fell voice of the scar since the day after his arrival in the valley, Legolas had begun to fear its return more than he feared his father’s coming. The King he could withstand, even should his Ada have come to the Last Homely House to cause troubles. But to have the scar awaken its recriminations at the same time as his father – this worried Legolas. He did not wish to spend his time alone with Estel in the woods ruminating about his father or apprehensive that he might hear the mar’s maleficent voice.

 _In a few weeks’ time, this ache will cease, surely._ Smiling at the thought, the laegel continued to palpate his thigh, knowing that Elladan and Elrohir were both watching him do so, but for once not bothered by their constant espying. _In a few years’ time, perhaps the grief will be a distant memory, as well,_ he thought with hope, although he knew it was foolish ever to believe that his sorrow would leave him entirely. Elves with fewer tribulations than he had endured had crossed the sea into Valinor in hopes of alleviating their anguish, and that the Prince had not even considered doing so, but desired to stay in Middle Earth with his father, friends, and most especially Aragorn, said much for his ability to endure the whelming sorrow that might otherwise have towed him under. Still, he thought it would be wonderful to go a single day without his faer reminding him of the abuse his rhaw had undergone.

No, today the twins’ vigilant eyes did not bother Legolas as he massaged his aching thigh. Both attentive sons of Elrond were supposed to be supervising some parts of the preparations for King Thranduil’s arrival. Elrohir was to be seeing to the cooks and Elladan to the cleaning in the hall of fire. As luck would have it, Elrohir had felt the desire to find their human and Wood-Elf brethren, instead, and so, one twin always following the other, Elladan had shirked his duties as well to seek out Aragorn and Legolas in the fields. They had actually done no sparring themselves, but had found the two lovers under their oak tree as they were now, sitting and recuperating from their activity, and thus the twins had wordlessly joined the tranquil Ranger and Wood-Elf in their rest.

Their quiet would not last long, however. The twin sons of Elrond had been trying to keep the laegel’s mind off his father’s arrival, even though such a thing was impossible. Legolas could feel their tireless energy and wondered what mischief they would cause next in their efforts to distract him. Already in the last few days, the two identical brothers had started a war of pranks against the Wood-Elf and Ranger, had challenged the Prince several times at long games of cards and riddles, and had insisted on a friendly archery competition, which Legolas had won without much bother. Truly, the laegel appreciated the diversion. He loved his friends as he would have brothers – had he any brothers. Their distraction also served to distract Estel, who despite his promise to support Legolas during his father’s visit, was growing steadily more withdrawn and broody as his own uneasiness increased.

Hearing Elladan sigh as he laid himself out fully in the flattened grass and flowers, Legolas nearly sighed in response. He loved the warmth of the summer. Indeed, he almost took off his own tunic, as had the Ranger, to feel the sun upon his nude flesh. And he would have, had not he been too pleased at the strange discrepancy between Anor’s warmth on the bare skin of his face and the almost stinging sensation of it as the heat seeped into his clothing, making his tunic and the skin underneath twice as hot as his exposed face. The heat from Anor was a tingling impression across his flesh, a pleasing, warm feeling that made him content and sleepy. He was a Wood-Elf, and as one, the balmy night, celestial stars, and pale moon would always be his favorite time; however, Anor gave the warmth that made the green things grow, and for this, he was especially grateful. The trees and plants craved the sun, they sang for it, played in it, and this in itself made the Wood-Elf all the happier to be sitting amongst them in Anor’s loving light. The sun was also the reason that the Ranger’s skin was becoming darker every day, and would continue to deepen until the overcast skies of the winter dulled Arda and her inhabitants with the lack of bright light.

He shifted so that he was closer to the Adan. _Soon Estel will be dark as night, though it will have been Anor to make him so brown,_ the Elf thought drowsily, adding, _and I remain as pale as Ithil, though I sit here in the sun of the day._

He kept himself from reaching out to press his finger against the trail of sweat that played down the Ranger’s muscled torso. The twins may no longer be set against their Adan brother and Wood-Elf friend’s union – not as they had been months ago when thinking that Legolas may fade from the physical release the two had shared – but Elladan and Elrohir were not always comfortable with watching the Elf and Ranger act so intimately together. Legolas often found himself forgetting that all this had not only come too soon for the human and him, but for the twins, their father, and even his own Ada.

To Elladan and Elrohir, the human was still a child, no matter if Aragorn protested this or not, and so to the twins, it must have been peculiar to think of their Estel sharing another’s bed. That it was their longtime childhood friend who their human brother had chosen for his lover only complicated the matter for Elladan and Elrohir, as the two beings they had taken into their family as brothers were now lovers.

Closing his eyes and turning his face back to the sun, he thought, _It is altogether an odd situation._

He did not know what exactly the Noldorin brothers thought of his and Estel’s bond, but he knew that Elladan and Elrohir had abandoned their criticism of it, for the occasional discomforted moment that passed between them was always allayed by a more common delight that both Aragorn and Legolas were happy. The Wood-Elf had long since been told by Estel that after the Prince was attacked in the forest and then shortly thereafter found pleasure with the Adan, Elladan and Elrohir had warned the human to refrain from corporeal pleasure with the Prince. They had feared that it had come too soon: they had been right. But now that it seemed that Legolas was on the mend, their fears for the laegel’s well-being were ameliorated. The twins, like their father, were less concerned with what others might think of the union between an orphaned human and an Elven Prince, but cared more for how this would affect the Ranger and laegel. As both Legolas and Aragorn were altogether more than exultant to be in love and with the other, neither twin had said anything against their two foster brothers being mated.

Unable to resist the temptation to touch his lover any longer, the Prince stuck his hand out, his long finger catching one of the glistening beads of sweat that had become tangled in the dark hair trailing down the human’s abdomen.

At once, the dozing Ranger’s eyes flew open, and he slapped the laegel’s hand away with his own out of instinct. At seeing Legolas’ surprise, a chagrined Estel took the Elf’s hand in his, rubbing it as if he had truly hurt the Elf. “My apologies, Greenleaf, I did not mean to strike your hand away! I thought you to be an insect of some sort.”

Sitting up to see what had occurred, the twins roared in laughter at this, with the younger of the two saying, “Legolas has been called many names, but this is the most apposite appellation yet!”

The elder Noldo added, “A mosquito, perhaps? Or a pesky mayfly!” The twins laughed again, earning them a mock scowl from Legolas and an amused shake of the head from Estel.

He resumed trailing the curves and lines of the Ranger’s belly with his fingers, forgetting that the Noldor were there for the moment. Aragorn closed his eyes and laid his back against the oak’s rough trunk, awake and smiling and letting Legolas do as he pleased. Just days earlier, before the Elf and Ranger had resumed enjoying each other’s bodies, the Prince would have refrained from such intimate gestures in deference to the Adan’s attempt to control his lust. Now, however, all impediments from showing the other their desire were dissolved, and neither could seem to stop touching the other.

After a few moments, Elladan made a disgusted sound that erupted deep from his chest. He complained, “Must you do that, Legolas? Why you feel the need to play in the human’s sweat is beyond me. You will stink as he does, now.”

The hint of a smile showed the Noldo’s true feelings on the matter, and that he was teasing, of course, but Legolas replied seriously, “My human does not smell. He is as clean as either of you two.” At the disbelieving looks of the twins, the Wood-Elf laughed and explained, stretching himself out beside Aragorn to say, “This human has seen two baths today.”

Laughing in mirth at his lover’s response, Estel added to Legolas’ explanation, “Yes, one to wash away the night, and another to wash away the first bath!”

Elrohir and his brother gave each other an indulgent smile, shaking their heads at his identical other. However, before Elladan could reply with another mischievous rejoinder, the nearly indistinct call of Legolas' name came to them, though it was barely audible over the sounds of the sparring Elves nearby and inaudible to Aragorn entirely. The elder Noldo sat upright and then stood on his knees to stare out across the grass of the field, which was tall and heavy with seed and flower.

Instead of whatever pithy comment he had been intent to make, Elladan told his friends, “Kalin is coming this way.” The smile of welcome the Noldo wore disappeared, and he told his listeners, standing as he said, “And he is running.”

Forgoing waiting for any to join him or allowing Kalin to reach them to give his news, immediately Legolas climbed to his feet and began sprinting towards his sentry as the fair Elf, seeing the laegel, made a beeline for his liege. When Kalin was close enough, he stopped running and began walking swiftly, appearing flustered and anxious as he called out to Legolas, “He is here.”

His sentry need not have said anything else, nor was any explanation needed. For the past three days, they had been expecting the King of Eryn Galen to arrive. Though the weather had been kind to the travelers, it had still taken a day longer than what was anticipated for their appearance. Legolas had spent most of his time anxious, wondering what had been keeping his father, sentries, and the warriors of Imladris from a timely arrival in the valley. He would soon find out.

“Tell the others, Kalin, please. The twins will want to greet my father with their own,” he asked of his sentry quickly, who nodded and continued his jog to the twins and Ranger that Legolas had left standing under the oak tree. He had said nothing of Aragorn wanting to greet the King of Mirkwood, for as far as he knew, Estel would much rather pummel Eryn Galen’s sovereign than say hello to him.

As the fields were to the side and slightly behind the Last Homely House, Legolas found it easier merely to run through the house itself, rather than around it, to reach the front courtyard. He took more than one unsuspecting ambler off her guard as he flew past servants, maids, a cook carrying a basket of bread, and even Lord Erestor, who had been walking quickly in the same direction.

“Slow down, Prince Legolas,” the advisor called after him, a laugh in his voice. “You have almost knocked this old Elf to his knees.”

 _He is only excited to see Glorfindel return,_ the young Wood-Elf told himself, smiling at the thought of a stealthy reunion of the two though he did not stop to share this with Erestor. Aragorn had told him of the clandestine affair between Erestor and Glorfindel in secret, and he would keep it so. Legolas threw a hurried apology as he rounded the corner, “Forgive me, my Lord.”

The young Wood-Elf could not recall a time when he had been as such; that is, waiting for his father to arrive with his fanfare and sentries, on a mission of some political nature. When still an Elfling, when too young to ride out against the threats to the safety of Eryn Galen, he had often waited with his Naneth for his father to come home. But this was different. He was not even sure that his King would not charge him straightaway to leave with him back to Mirkwood. He did not know if his father would welcome him at all, much less as he had when Legolas was younger, throwing his arms open and swinging him around as he would have had this been many years ago and the Prince still a child.

His feet barely touching the stone entryway as he flew through the immense front doors to the House, where outside the main courtyard lay, Legolas halted his dash only when finding that a group of Elrond’s advisors were standing there, surrounding the Lord of Imladris, as they watched their fellow Elves and guests coming into the square. Threading between the advisors and onlookers, the Prince made his way to the front of the small crowd, coming to stand beside his Minyatar, needing the elder Elf’s assurance in that brief moment, as he spotted his father for the first time since leaving him weeping and distraught in the King’s study. Elrond, as perceptive as ever, detected the Prince’s anxious need for support and reached out behind the laegel, placing his hand between the younger Elf’s shoulders for a few moments before letting it fall away. This short touch did for the Wood-Elf as he had hoped, as Elrond had known it would. Legolas took in a deep breath, understanding that he was not alone, that Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel were behind him – quite literally, as it turned out, for the Noldorin Lords and their human brother had arrived and moved to where their father waited, the former standing beside their father and Estel standing directly behind the Prince. Aragorn must have sensed the Wood-Elf’s need for encouragement as Elrond had, for he placed his arm surreptitiously around Legolas’ waist, his hand on the Elf’s hip.

 _He looks well and sober,_ the laegel decided of his King’s appearance. Thranduil sat straight upon his horse, his clothing regal and clean, his hair bright and his face freshly washed, while everyone else looked tired and travel worn. The King spotted his son immediately. His unreadable eyes never left Legolas’ similarly colored orbs as he and his sentries rode to the front of the procession, leaving behind the Imladrian escort that had brought them safely to the valley.

“My Lord Elrond. It is good to see that you are well,” the King of Eryn Galen called out with no hauteur once his horse had slowed and he was close enough to the high steps to speak to the Imladrian leader without the obstacles of his sentries and curious Noldor between them. He bowed slightly where he sat in reverence to the leader in whose land he was now a guest. “I have come seeking hospitality and haven in the Last Homely House.”

“And you shall have it, King Thranduil,” Elrond replied at once, adding, “You are welcome here, as are all friends of my family.” With this, he swept out his arms, indicating with their breadth that he spoke of all of Imladris as his family, not just his sons who stood with him. “We have been expecting your arrival with great anticipation.”

His welcome secured, the King prepared to dismount, an act for which Legolas had been waiting impatiently. The moment that the King’s feet hit the cobblestone courtyard, the Prince was there, bounding down the steps to where Thranduil stood. He was interrupting the normal decorum and tradition of the diplomacy in Lord Elrond accepting his royal guest, but Legolas knew that his Minyatar would not mind. His King might disdain this familiarity in front of strangers, but Legolas did not care if his father became upset over it. Despite his fear of why his Ada was coming to Imladris, the Prince was pleased to see him.

The King, having just righted himself fully after sliding from his steed, seemed staggered to find a smiling, salubrious, and convivial son standing right before him. “Ada,” the laegel said warmly.

“Legolas,” his father returned, his surprise so visible to the Prince that it made him smile wider to see that his Ada had expected a different greeting or perhaps no greeting at all. Their parting in Eryn Galen those weeks ago had not been a kind one, nor one that would explain Legolas’ behavior now.

The Prince stepped forwards to his father to receive him with a hug. The King swayed back at first, his face frowning charily at the unexpected greeting. However, after this brief second of disapproving hesitance, Thranduil reached out to his son with awkward and unsure devotion, his arms finding their way across Legolas’ shoulders, where they weighed heavily, albeit not unpleasantly, upon the Prince. His father’s hand tightened on the back of Legolas’ neck, and for a moment, he thought he had misunderstood the relief and elation he had seen in Thranduil’s eyes upon seeing his son well and welcoming. However, the hand only brought Legolas to his Ada, pulling the slighter, fairer, and kinder version of himself to the King’s chest, where he enveloped Legolas in his arms for a brief moment, before releasing him abruptly.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The King seemed quiet and reserved, if not unsure and confused. He was not ranting, raving, or being cruel. He was not accusing Elrond or Aragorn or the twins or Legolas – in other words, he was not being himself at all.

 _This is just another trick,_ Aragorn decided, watching Thranduil treat his son with what seemed to be love and care. _This is a show for Ada and all of Imladris. It will end as soon as Thranduil and Greenleaf are alone._

For this matter, he would see to it that Legolas and his King were not alone. It would take vigilance and likely enrage Thranduil and irritate Elrond, but Estel was determined to keep his lover from harm. He had promised Legolas to refrain from engaging the King in a battle of wills, but he would break this promise if Thranduil raised his hand to Greenleaf even once. _The best way,_ he determined, _to keep this oath to Legolas that I not try to protect him is to ensure that he is placed in no situation where he might need protection._

He looked to the twins and his father, none of whom seemed perplexed at this strange show of fondness between son and sire. Indeed, the Noldor appeared satisfied and smiled at each other in relief to see that the King was at least ostensibly excited to see their friend. Their embrace had been brief, although to Aragorn it had seemed long. Perhaps this was merely because he did not anticipate Thranduil’s ready acceptance of Greenleaf’s affection and had not believed it possible that the Elf-King would last a moment in Rivendell longer than it took to tie Legolas to the nearest packhorse and be off with him.

Pleasantries and welcomes were exchanged in a manner that Estel had seen a hundred times or more, though never with such propriety as was occurring today. Each of Thranduil’s party was no one important in diplomacy, except perhaps for Ninan, who was the closest to an advisor that the King of Mirkwood had brought with him. Indeed, with only a small contingent of his own soldiers having accompanied him to Imladris along with a few personal servants, the King had traveled lightly to the valley, which also seemed evidence that the sovereign was not himself. Not once during Estel’s lifetime had Thranduil left Eryn Galen’s stronghold, so he had no previous instance on which to base his reckoning, but the Ranger had anticipated that Thranduil would have created as much fuss and pomp as possible whilst coming to Imladris, and that he had not was very odd to the human.

The King pulled his son along with him by the arm, leaving his sentries and packs to be taken care of by the servants, both his and the Noldor. He walked to Elrond, where Aragorn’s adopted father addressed the Elvenking with less formality than before, the crowd forgotten as the two leaders – at one time better acquaintances than now and always staunch allies despite their slight differences in culture and politics – spoke to each other. Thranduil held the Prince’s forearm in his hand while he greeted Elrond, but let go so that he could take Elrond’s in a more sociable salutation. As the twins spoke their greetings, as well, Thranduil’s eyes flitted past Aragorn, never quite landing upon him to see the Ranger, though surely the King must have noticed the human standing there glaring at him. Legolas, who walked just behind his father as Elrond led the King into the house, took Aragorn’s arm in his own.

The people of Imladris did not know of the visiting King of Mirkwood’s troubles in tempering his choler. Many of them knew of Thranduil’s propensity for wine, his reclusive nature, and his consummate abilities as a warrior and wisdom as a King, but they also saw him as they saw their own Lord Elrond. They knew Thranduil to be a just ruler, a commander of the bastion against a woods still tainted with the Darkness that had once almost overrun it, and an Elf who had endured sorrow much the same as their own liege. None of these Elves knew the true nature of the Elf-King, and seeing the smiles of the twins and his father, Aragorn feared that his family had already forgotten of Thranduil’s trespasses.

For the next few hours, the King of Mirkwood would receive no rest or time alone with Legolas. He would be greeted by most every visitor and inhabitant who wished to see him, all of them introduced by Elrond whether they were nobility or a curious house servant, since titles and wealth did not garner more respect in Elrond’s thinking.

 _We will have to wait to find out why Thranduil has come._ Although the King had not told them the moment he had arrived, it did not assuage the Ranger’s anxiety. He knew that Thranduil would still try to take his Greenleaf away, even should it not be in a challenge of authority or threats made to Elrond. _He will lie in wait. This is not his realm: he cannot throw his bottles and scream his way into convincing Legolas to leave. Not around my father. Thranduil will be forced into using his wits to trick or convince Greenleaf to leave._

Although the Prince had promised Aragorn that he would remain in Imladris, despite what his father may want, Estel knew that if pushed, Legolas would leave to safeguard the human and Elrond’s family and interests. Only a few nights previous, Legolas had given the pledge in the library not to leave Estel, but even then, the Ranger had known the Wood-Elf had made a promise he hoped to keep, not one that he knew he could keep. It had not angered him that his Greenleaf had stretched the truth. Hadn’t he made his own vow to avoid conflict with the King and hadn’t he already decided that this vow would be broken the looming moment that Thranduil harmed Legolas?

Estel held tighter to the Elf’s arm, which caused Legolas to tauten his own grip in return, and they tried to keep together as they walked.

He could not help but to smile at the laegel’s insistence in walking together and to show his attachment so plainly. Although busy with formalities, Thranduil must surely have noticed that his son held to the human’s side. However, in the commotion, Aragorn released the Elf’s limb so that he would not be bullying past the thick of advisors, servants, and citizens who lined the halls, but he remained always a step behind Legolas.

If he could not interfere outright, he would remain in the shadows, watching, waiting, and ever wary of what may come.


	9. Chapter 9

After what seemed to the Ranger to be days of greeting Elves whose names he would never remember, King Thranduil and his entourage of the Elrondion family and sentries made their way out of the hall of fire and into the adjoining dining hall, where no more Elves were waiting, for this informal area was where Elrond would speak with his guest. Normally, Elrond might have let his royal visitor wash and rest before this informal audience, but given that the Peredhel had need to find out as soon as possible under what possibly dire circumstances that Thranduil had come to Imladris, Elrond intended to offer some nourishment and conversation before showing Thranduil his guest room. Indeed, none of them was as of yet sure that Thranduil would even be staying in the Last Homely House. It had not stopped them from preparing for his stay, though.

As they had walked the short distance from the great anteroom, their party had grown smaller until it was mostly the two families who entered the long dining hall. Kalin had come, also, and Ninan followed his King. The steady click of the sentry’s scabbard hitting against the buckle of his belt matched the clinking of cups and dishes in the room, where servants were placing a light repast of freshly baked bread, a variety of sliced aged cheeses, and fresh summer fruit amidst the steaming pots of tea and perspiring jars of cool water. No wine had been served.

It was not often that Imladris housed a dignitary of Thranduil’s prepotency. Most visitors were humbled in the presence of the Peredhel Lord of Imladris, not his equal. The only Elven visitors of such stature were connected in both power and family by his bonding to Celebrian, such as the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, or they were allies thereof. To have the King of Eryn Galen in the Last Homely House was a great occasion for the Noldor, an occurrence that had once come often but had not come recently, and was an event that would no doubt bring every Elf in the valley to the house tonight for the celebration, would cause each to wear her finest and be on his best behavior, and was already creating a ruckus amongst the staff to see who would be the auspicious ones to serve the Mirkwood King and make their Lord proud with their expert presentation.

Estel stood just inside one of the arched doors between the hall of fire and the dining room, waiting to see how the two families would seat themselves around the table. _Wherever Legolas sits,_ Estel told himself, _I will be seated right beside him._

If he had held any misgivings that the laegel wished to avoid flaunting his male mate before his disapproving father, they were nullified now. The Elf was waiting for Estel in the middle of the room, smiling at him with affection. Despite the Silvan’s smile, to the Ranger, who was more perceptive than most at gauging his lover’s moods, Legolas appeared on the verge of panic, and the human’s thoughts went immediately to the web of scars on the Silvan’s thigh. The two had exercised long and hard today in practicing their swordsmanship, but it was the sly, loathsome misery manifested in the marred flesh of the Wood-Elf’s leg over which the Ranger worried, and not an ordinary ache.

 _Does it bother him now?_ the human wondered. If the King’s mere presence had brought about the return of the laegel’s grief, it would bode ill for the Wood-Elf should Thranduil begin one his tirades.

Intent on finding this out, on touching the laegel, on reassuring his lover and quelling the scar should it have resurfaced, Aragorn entered the dining hall with clear purpose in mind. However, a hand on his arm pulled him from the doorway and back into the hall of fire; Estel turned to glare at whoever was impeding his trailing of his fair-haired mate, until he saw that it was none other than Glorfindel who had stopped him. With a pleased smile, the usually staid commander wasted no time in embracing the Ranger in a quick hug, whispering in the human’s ear during the short moment he kept Estel close to him, “I see that you have your Greenleaf again.”

“For now,” he returned, gripping his teacher’s arms in true welcome.

Releasing the commander and upon his stepping back from Glorfindel, Estel realized that the hall of fire was not yet cleared of curious Elves. Indeed, a few steps apart from the small crowd that loitered against the far wall stood a Noldo that Estel had expected would arrive with the King – Mithfindl lingered while the others dispersed at Aragorn and Glorfindel’s attention, as if they had been caught eavesdropping. Mithfindl, however, looked as if he thought he might be invited into the private gathering, standing tall and staring back at the Ranger and commander without emotion.

 _Whoever set his nose, it was not Ada,_ the Ranger observed with an inner smile of amusement. Mithfindl’s nose was slightly off; the break had not been tended by Lord Elrond because no one would ever have been able to tell that Mithfindl’s nose had been broken by Estel had the master healer set the bone.

“He has tried to make friends with King Thranduil during our trip here,” Glorfindel told the Ranger upon seeing who held the human’s gaze. The commander lowered his voice to avoid the despicable Noldo hearing him as he spoke, “The furtherance of his own vocation is always foremost on Mithfindl’s mind.”

“Surely Thranduil could find better friends, although if any two Elves were alike in vileness, it would be those two,” the Ranger replied in like, hushed tone. The last thing that Legolas needed was more strife from Mithfindl, especially in recruitment from the King, so although he was eager to go into the dining hall with his family and lover, the human was interested to hear this news from Glorfindel, and asked, “Did he make any headway in his efforts in befriending Thranduil?”

Glorfindel shook his head and sighed. He looked to Mithfindl and then to where the King and others were standing, making pleasantries as they waited for all to be present and thus be seated. Legolas still stood waiting his lover, and Aragorn almost forsook hearing what the warrior would say in remembrance of his desire to comfort the laegel. But Glorfindel continued, “I believe he has, actually. I sent him to Imladris with word of our arrival to try to rid Thranduil of his nuisance, but Mithfindl returned with wine from his father's stores, and the King and he have enjoyed it together every meal and night since.” Aragorn took pleasure in turning away from the detestable Noldo and entered the room with Glorfindel, leaving Mithfindl outside, uninvited and alone in the hall of fire. “It does not take much more than wine to garner the Elvenking’s favor,” the golden warrior added. “Although it is odd how quickly Thranduil has grown fond of Mithfindl. They even rode alone, speaking together privately more than once.”

Their conversation ended as they grew near enough to risk the others hearing. Elrond had not seated himself in the great chair where he would normally take his repose during ceremony or banquets. He had not even led the small procession of Elves and Ranger to the dais where tonight the King and Elrond would be seated for the feast welcoming Thranduil to Imladris. Around one of the shorter tables did Elrond sit, a twin on either side of him, while across the wooden plank surface was laid the spread the servants had provided, should Thranduil be hungry, and on the opposite side of this meal sat the King himself, his guard Ninan to the right of him, and Kalin standing devotedly behind his King and fellow sentry. As Legolas was still waiting for Estel to sit with him around the table, the Ranger hurried to the laegel, sliding his arm through the Wood-Elf’s, his solicitude of assuaging the Prince’s qualms belated but not forgotten. Glorfindel stalled the commencement of Elrond’s inquiry and the satisfaction of all their curiosity when he spoke to Legolas before the laegel could offer his own greeting to the Balrog-slayer.

“Thranduilion,” Glorfindel hailed, pulling Legolas from Estel’s arm and into his own in an uncharacteristically affectionate welcome for the Prince. Although the commander and Prince had great esteem for each other, they had not been as close as Glorfindel and Estel, much less the commander and the twins. However, after being in Mirkwood, seeing what the Prince had endured, and feeling partly responsible in letting Estel attack the merchant Kane and thereby granting Thranduil the leverage to pry the two lovers apart, it must have pleased Glorfindel and eased his mind greatly to see the laegel safe and happy – and back with Estel. “I am glad to see you well, young one.”

Hearing his son’s name spoken as such, the King twisted around in his seat to see who had said it, and thus, all eyes in the room were upon the laegel and commander unnecessarily as they said their greetings to the other.

“Thank you, Lord Glorfindel.” Grinning with surprise at Aragorn over the commander’s shoulder, Legolas allowed himself to be swept into a bearish hug from Glorfindel.

Once released, the abashed laegel took his Ranger’s arm in his own again, an act that also did not go unnoticed by the King, who turned away at the sight, and who had still not met the human’s gaze. _Let him be angry,_ the human thought, following Legolas into choosing a seat around the table. _He will need to grow accustomed to seeing us as lovers, because this will not change, not even for him._ Since Thranduil sat in the middle, Legolas chose the open seat to his father’s left, leaving Aragorn to pull a chair from the table nearby so that he could sit at the table’s end. Glorfindel did likewise on the opposite end, facing the Ranger.

Once the servants had left after serving the parched travelers and not one to mince his words, Elrond asked of the King of Eryn Galen, “Have you come on diplomatic pursuits, Thranduil?”

“It has been long since I have visited the valley of your making, Elrond,” the King deflected, pausing to drink long from his cup of cool water. Without rancor, he asked candidly, “Am I welcome in your land, as you have said in the courtyard in front of your people, or do you wish me gone, now that we are alone?”

_Apparently, Thranduil feels no need for skirting the issue at hand, either._

Why Thranduil expected to be welcomed in Imladris, Aragorn could not fathom, except that the King’s tendency for arrogation was now wont to extend to those not within his own realm. After all, Thranduil had imprisoned Elrond’s adopted son in his dungeons, he had thrown the twins, commander, and Ranger from the great forest, and had even tried to strike Estel in anger, though this was the least of his crimes. It was not beyond the King, the Ranger thought, to ignore his own actions in Mirkwood, to pretend that they had never happened, as he had seemingly forgotten his every misdeed of harming or berating Legolas shortly after doing it over these many years. Above all, above what infringements the sovereign of Greenwood had made against Elrond’s sons, for his actions against Legolas, Estel hoped that Elrond would ultimately take Thranduil to task, though perhaps not so soon as tonight. But being a King, one who had been granted respect out of title and had long since forgotten how to earn it, Thranduil did not seem flustered in the least to be in such an awkward situation. Legolas had told the Ranger that Elrond had promised not to interfere on his behalf – and while Estel did not doubt his father’s promise to Legolas, the Adan was certain that the time would soon come when Elrond would find a way to broach the topic with the King without causing trouble, for the Peredhel had a knack for interrogation and advising without the object of his attention being the wiser for it.

_Certainly, Thranduil realizes that my father has been informed of what occurred in his halls. Having done the things that Thranduil has done, anyone else would be cowering in disgrace to sit before Lord Elrond!_

Ignoring the distrustful undercurrent of the King’s statement, Elrond smiled, his kind, fair face giving no hint of the potential foul situation that might arise. With this single smile, Elrond calmed everyone at the table, even Thranduil, but placated Legolas most of all, who likely feared that his Minyatar and father would argue. “You are always welcome in the Last Homely House, Thranduil – my mind is not changed,” the Peredhel reassured. Refilling Thranduil’s tumbler with water himself, Elrond told the King, “But you have not been in the valley since long before your Queen would come with Legolas to visit Celebrian. I feared you have arrived needing aid or that some ill has befallen Eryn Galen.”

Deflating into his seat, perhaps because of Elrond’s words but perhaps also because of the mention of his deceased wife, the King took the now full glass offered him and thanked the Peredhel for both the water and his hospitality. “You have my gratitude, Elrond. You are right: I have not come to Imladris since shortly after Legolas was born, when we came for the midsummer festival. After that, I have always been needed in the forest.”

“And you are not needed in the forest now?”

Thranduil was not likely aware of the reasoning behind Elrond’s seemingly innocent questions, for they sounded as mere politeness. “I have left my advisors to lead in my stead. They have served under me long enough to know what my decisions would be without my telling them.”

“Of course they do. My own advisors rarely need to advise or ask advice any longer, for so long have they been with me.” Again, Elrond beamed warmly at Thranduil, and then turned this warmth to those seated at the table around him. One of the Imladrian leader’s many gifts, and that for which he was most known outside Rivendell, was his propensity to put all he met at ease, and to be so welcoming that even the most distrusting visitors soon felt at home in Imladris. The Peredhel continued, “That is good news that you come here just for respite, for now we have the opportunity to become reacquainted. Was your journey here without trouble?”

As his foster father’s questions truly turned to pleasantries, Aragorn ceased paying attention, but looked to his Greenleaf, instead. The Elf was sipping tea, occasionally nibbling the slice of goat cheese he had taken from the spread before them, and watching his father while listening attentively to Thranduil explain how they had slowed their journey as they had crossed into the safety of the outlying lands so that the King could see for himself some way of irrigation that the farmers were using for their fields. The Peredhel and Elf-King supped and talked, speaking as leaders of great lands and people might do, sharing vague details and asking courteous questions that would be construed as neither invasive or what might bring about serious discussion. All others at the tables were merely onlookers to this conversation. No one else offered his opinion or tried to obtrude, although they all listened raptly. Taking a roll from those in the wicker basket before him, the human – who was not hungry in the least but required some action for his hands, which still longed to wrap themselves around the King’s throat for being the cause of Legolas’ condition upon arriving in Imladris months ago – instead broke his bread into pieces under the table’s planks where none could see.

The King was finished with his water and the few pieces of cheese, bread, and fruit he’d chosen, and Elrond and Thranduil’s stilted conversation could go on no longer without turning to subjects that would eventually be spoken of in private – matters concerning their lands and people, the Darkness in the forest and the lands around the valley, and other important topics that the two leaders had few with the same responsibilities upon whom to rely for information and advice.

Elrond told his coeval counterpart, “We have planned a feast to celebrate your safe arrival.” Placing his cup on the table, he continued, “Until then, why do you not rest. My house is at your disposal. Greenleaf,” the leader of Imladris asked with a benevolent smile, “will you please show your father to his rooms? I am certain you’d like to spend some time alone with him.”

“Yes. Of course, Minyatar,” the laegel replied at once with a return smile, his tea and the Ranger forgotten as he stood to do Elrond’s bidding.

Aragorn vindictively eyed the King’s confused reaction to hearing his son term Lord Elrond his Minyatar, and wondered what Thranduil thought of Greenleaf calling Elrond father. Legolas had always been careful not to refer to Elrond as his Minyatar in front of the King, for he had known how irritated that Thranduil became in knowing that Legolas had found comfort and family in the Noldor. Estel found it pleasing that it vexed Thranduil, which should have made him feel petty. He thought with some glee, _Thranduil will likely take it as a personal affront._ This supposition caused Estel’s gladness in the King’s annoyance to wane when he realized, _If it truly angers Thranduil, then it will only worsen what may come when Legolas and he are alone._ _At least his sentries will be nearby, for now,_ the Ranger comforted himself, as he was certain that Ninan and the King’s other guards would trail behind Thranduil his entire stay in the valley. _I can at least rely on them to be close at hand should Thranduil decide to take his anger out on Greenleaf._

He sat on the edge of his chair in indecision, watching quietly as the King repeated his words of gratitude and then walked with Legolas from the room. After giving Elrond and his sons a brief bow and a smile, Ninan followed along behind his King and Prince, as Aragorn had expected, and was then succeeded by Kalin, who caught up to his superior to speak with him as they walked.

“I would rather not leave Legolas alone with his father,” he told his brothers, father, and Glorfindel once the King’s entourage had left the room and enough time had passed so that there was no chance of any overhearing him, “at least not until we find out why Thranduil is here.”

“Do not worry, my son.” Picking up his teacup from the table, the Elf Lord looked into it, tilting it back and forth, swishing the liquid around in absentminded contemplation. “Thranduil has a good reason for being here and I do not believe it is to cause conflict.”

“He comes to take Legolas back with him,” the Ranger charged at once, not believing his father for a moment. He dropped the pieces of his bread to the floor uncharitably, so that some poor servant would have to sweep them up before the feast tonight. “Do not let him dupe you. This is only a new ploy.”

“If Greenleaf returns to Eryn Galen, then that is his choice.” Setting his cup back upon the table, the Elf Lord helped himself to more of the fruit there, piling berries upon his plate as he warned, “Do not let your anger stand in the way of Thranduil and Legolas making their amends, my son. Legolas will only grow to resent you for it in the end.”

After a few moments, Glorfindel, Elrohir, and Elladan began to eat again, as well, while the twins spoke of the banquet that night, teasing each other about the lack of she-Elves in Thranduil’s retinue, for now they had not a single new Wood-Elf maiden to court.

Estel understood what his father meant and why he had said it, but could not understand what would cause the wise Lord Elrond to be taken in by Thranduil’s mendaciousness. _They are already tricked. They already believe Thranduil’s affectation._ He would have no help from them, it seemed. _You have promised to stand behind Legolas in what he does, not try to protect him. Do not forget this,_ the Adan reminded himself.Using the pads of his feet, the Ranger’s long legs jerked and bounced under the table. He could not manage to sit still, not when he feared he had broken his vow to keep Legolas and his father from being alone. _Nothing will happen,_ he told himself, grabbing another roll to tear to pieces as he had the last one. _Thranduil would not act so boldly in Imladris._


	10. Chapter 10

Standing in the entryway between the outer chamber where Ninan and Kalin were and the bedchambers where his father and Faidnil were, Legolas leant his back upon the door-less jamb, his consideration wavering between the activity in the two rooms, though perpetually, his attention would return to his father. Two of his father’s sentries were outside the room, as well, though they were tasked with guarding their King’s door and kept silent vigil.

Thranduil walked a circle, inspecting the furnishings, the mural on the wall, the tapestries and paintings, while his personal servant Faidnil went about his business of putting the King’s belongings where they would be stored the duration of Thranduil’s stay. That the servant was putting away any belongings seemed a good sign to Legolas, for if the King had intended his stay in the valley to be brief, he likely would not have bothered to let Faidnil empty the chest of clothes as he did. The chambers in which Thranduil was to stay had been newly cleaned. They still smelled of scented soap and there was not a mote of dust to be found anywhere on the furniture or floor. Though laid with wood and ready for a fire, the hearth was barren of all ash, its blackened stone interior carefully devoid of all debris. Even the sheer drapes were cleaned, for they hung flat, slightly damp and heavy, drying where they dangled over the open windows, despite the strong breeze that otherwise might have been forceful enough to move them.

 _Ada has not brought much with him,_ Legolas noted. Although the laegel could hardly remember a single instance when the King had left Greenwood for any length of time except to fight with his warriors on the outskirts of their homeland’s borders, he would have expected his father to bring more chattel with him than he had brought to Imladris. Yet, there were only two chests, one of which Faidnil was now emptying of its robes and leggings into a doorless armoire that was carved in high relief to look like the hollowed trunk of a tree. The other chest remained shut and formidable – Legolas wondered what was in it, for Faidnil had made no move to clear its contents. _Perhaps that is the trunk in which they will lock me when Ada decides to cart me back to Eryn Galen,_ he joked darkly to himself.

He listened absently to Kalin and Ninan talking, pretending to be interested in their conversation about the troubles they had evaded on their way to Imladris these past weeks. Legolas caught only the occasional remark made by either sentry; an insinuating ache had begun in his leg, starting just where he would expect such pain – in his thigh. Of all that might occur, the Prince hoped that the scar – or what was left of it – would remain silent through it. Given that he had taken exercise that morning with Estel, the laegel also hoped that it was merely overexertion that caused the still healing muscle of his thigh to jump and twitch in discomfort. Rather than standing here in his father’s guest room, impatiently awaiting his father to dismiss him, the Prince longed to be with the Ranger. As he fought the urge to rub at his tender leg, he told himself, _Estel will have a hard task massaging away this ache tonight._

Long and heavy and made as ostentatious as one would expect a King’s sword to be, especially this ornamental blade that the King would wear for formality and not in actual battle, Thranduil’s weapon slid from where Faidnil had leant it against the wall in the corner during his toil. It crashed to the floor, causing everyone in both rooms to startle and look about them to see the cause of such an ear rattling sound.

Immediately upon noticing what had happened, Legolas went to pick up the finely made sword, pulling it from its scabbard to see the damage done to the blade and the jeweled sheathe. He said, “Not a scratch has been made upon it.”

Although Thranduil had always treated his servants with more respect and friendliness than he had his son, Legolas did not wish for his first meeting with his father after these many months to begin with the King ranting at Faidnil. Moreover, from the slightly terrified look on Faidnil’s face, a look that softened into relief to know that his carelessness had not spoilt his liege’s ceremonial sword, Legolas imagined that his fellow Silvan appreciated his Prince’s assurance.

“I am sorry, your Majesty,” Faidnil began, bowing as he perceived that he had displeased his King. Much older than Thranduil and having been his servant since the King had been merely a Prince of Eryn Galen, the silver haired Wood-Elf took his duties as Thranduil’s personal servant very seriously. _He looks as if he fears the gallows,_ Legolas mused with fond humor for Faidnil.

However, Thranduil shook his head at his servant, waving his hand in dismissal of the apology. “Legolas says that no harm is done, Faidnil.” Giving the elder Elf a benevolent smile, he told Faidnil, “Why do you not leave those robes where they are? None of this needs to be unpacked tonight. Go rest. We are all tired from our journey. The robes will be here tomorrow when we are all refreshed and washed.”

Appearing as if he had just escaped from a cave Troll’s stew pot, Faidnil’s hoary hair hung low over his face as he bowed deeply in thankfulness. “Of course, your Majesty.” Replacing back into the trunk the clothing he held, Faidnil bowed a final time, this time to Legolas, and gave his Prince a grateful smile. When Faidnil left and it was only Ninan and Kalin with father and son, Legolas was almost certain that his father rather they leave, as well. The conversation between the two sentries quieted into a discomforting silence and they moved to stand with Legolas in the bedchamber doorway, awaiting some order from their sovereign as to whether Thranduil needed them or what he intended for them to do.

“This is a fine room,” the King finally decided, though his assessment did not stop with his judgment.

“It is as nice as Elrond’s own chambers,” the Prince prevaricated to his father.

Legolas did not mention that many of the items that were placed in this room had no business being in there at all. A selection of the finest things from the Last Homely House, including bits of furniture and even a map of Eryn Galen taken from the library, had been borrowed to adorn the walls of the King’s guest chambers. Surely there were fine things in Elrond’s home, but they were not cordoned off or meant for the enjoyment of one Elf in a single room, but spread about the house for all to enjoy. Indeed, the stone candelabras that stood almost as tall as Legolas were carved to resemble young birches – these had been taken from the Peredhel Lord’s own bedchamber, which was partly why Thranduil’s room was the most ornamented in the whole house. The servants had done a thorough job of ensuring that the King, known for his love of wealth and ostentation, would feel at home in his rooms.

“Is the bed soft, I wonder,” the King asked no one in particular, replacing an ancient vase after having looked at it. “If the banquet tonight is as tiresome as greeting every Elf in Rivendell this afternoon, then perhaps I should get some rest, as Elrond suggested.”

Ninan and Kalin both took the subtle hint, with the superior, Ninan, saying for his underling, “We will leave you to it, your Majesty. I need to see that my sentries are housed and fed, besides. Meldir and Paethen will be outside to stand guard, should you need them.”

“Let Kalin see to the sentries,” the King ordered, though he then asked the Prince’s head sentry as if by afterthought, “You will do this so that Ninan can take rest?”

It was odd that their King asked instead of demanded, but already Kalin was shaking his head before the King had finished speaking, saying eagerly to his monarch, “Of course I shall, your Majesty. I have already seen that there is place for them in the barracks with the young Noldorin sentinels, but I shall take them there myself. I will place Oiolaire and Galendil outside your room so that Meldir and Paethen can find rest, as well.”

“Nonsense,” the King said with another wave of his hand. He resumed his scrutiny yet again, this time eyeing the timeworn map of Eryn Galen that had been painstakingly painted upon stretched and cured hide hundreds if not thousands of years ago. He told them, “There is no need for any of you to follow me around in Elrond's house. If Legolas needs no protection here then I am sure I will not either… unless it is from more introductions. I will not question Elrond's hospitality by appearing as if I did not trust him. I want no guards outside my rooms, no one hounding my every step. Make certain that your sentries know that they should enjoy themselves while here. I intend to.” Finally turning back to his audience, the King dismissed the two sentries by saying, “I will see you both at the feast tonight.”

Both sentries acceded to their King’s dismissal, and bowing to Thranduil and Legolas, the two Wood-Elves made their way from the room, taking Meldir and Paethen with them, and resuming their conversation about the journey to Imladris as they walked out into the hall. Settling down upon the bed to test its softness, it seemed, Thranduil spread his hands over the blanket, feeling the woven fabric. “Where are your rooms, Legolas?” his father asked.

“Close by. They are only a hallway away.” He did not point out that his rooms were with the family’s rooms and had been since first he had come to stay with his mother in the valley, nor did he allude to the fact that the Ranger’s room was across the hall from his own. It would serve no purpose to embitter his father with such details.

Thranduil nodded at this answer as he bounced lightly upon the down mattress. The mattress, of course, barely moved under the King’s weight. Although Legolas could not be sure, he thought it likely that this was a new bed, freshly stuffed, given the Imladrian servants' thoroughness in preparing the room. _I would not be shocked if the sheets and blankets were made especially for my father,_ he decided as he watched the King testing the bed’s give.

His father had said that he had not come to Imladris on official business, but Legolas had to be certain of his reason. If Thranduil had come to take his son back with him, this Legolas would deal with as he saw fit, depending on what schemes his father might use to assure his compliance. What frightened the Wood-Elf Prince the most was the possibility that his father had come to Imladris to charge Aragorn with assaulting the merchant in Thranduil’s halls, all in the effort to force his son’s return. Legolas would not allow this to happen. Now that he and his father were alone, he could ascertain for what his father had come and the suspense of waiting for his father’s arrival and now for his answer was trying Legolas’ tolerance. Legolas stepped closer to the bed where his father was sitting, holding tightly his shaking and nervous hands behind his back as he asked, “Ada. Tell me that you have not come seeking reprisal against Estel.”

For his part, Thranduil physically startled at the suggestion; his head quirked back, his fair brows rose, and he made to speak to his progeny. Although he wanted to hear what his father would say, the laegel continued before Thranduil could talk, reminding him, “I am the one who broke a promise to you, Adar, not Estel. Do not seek to punish him for what I have done, please.”

“Legolas –“

“No, Ada,” the Prince told his sire, feeling certain that he knew what argument he had just started and what position the King would take concerning the Ranger’s guilt. Years of finding ways to avoid his father’s wrath had instilled in the laegel the disinclination to broach topics that Thranduil found objectionable or irritating, and it was hard for the Prince not to silence himself from continuing. But wanting to ensure his Adan lover’s well-being, he blurted out before he lost his courage, “Kalin has told me that it was you who broke the merchant’s head open on the floor, not Estel.”

Thranduil’s face darkened, his body tensed in a way that usually portended a livid outburst. However, the King merely intonated firmly, “Legolas. Quiet! I have no wish to speak of these things.”

Reminded of Kalin’s worry by his own mention of the sentry, Legolas began a new plea to his father. He stepped even closer to his King, ready to beg, if required, to guarantee that Kalin, Oiolaire, and Galendil would not be punished for leaving with their Prince that long night months ago. He beseeched his sire, “Do not hold my sentries accountable for accompanying me here against your wishes, Ada, please. Kalin himself wishes to apologize for his insolence the night of my departure, and I hope that you do not hold him responsible for his words that night. He was overwrought.”

Snapping, his King told him, “Legolas! Quiet! I bring no ill will against your sentries, or the Ranger.”

He silenced immediately at his father’s exasperation. However, Legolas shifted in his own agitation where he stood. The Prince wanted to exhaust all possibilities of why his father might have come to Imladris, and so queried, “The warriors are faring well along our borders?

Standing from the bed, Thranduil began to pace around the room again, his feet taking him to the fireplace across the way, to look out the doors opening onto the gallery, and then back to the bed. He waited for his father to say or do something other than walk. He waited for his father to tell him why he had come to Imladris, or if nothing else, at least to answer his question. He fully expected that his King would fly off into a rage, and the ancient vase or his father’s fist would soon be leaping towards him. When after many minutes it seemed that Thranduil would not reply and he did not begin a tirade, Legolas thought his father might wish him gone. “I will let you rest, for now, and will see you tonight at the banquet, Ada. If you require me, I will be in my own rooms.”

Thranduil stopped his walking for a moment, and then resumed, not pacing aimlessly this time but striding ardently to Legolas. “No, my son,” the King began, grabbing the surprised laegel’s shoulders when he was near enough. “There is no need.”

Misunderstanding his father, believing the King to be saying that there was no need because they would not be staying for the banquet, Legolas tried to step back out of his father’s hold. He could not speak to his King nor could he seem to reason under his glare, especially when within reach of Thranduil’s fists and feet. It was not that the elder Elf appeared livid as much as his countenance was strangely perfervid. What emotion lit the King’s face, Legolas could not tell. The muscle of his overused thigh seized on him, but the Prince gave no sign of its ache. He wanted to wrench away from his King, to avoid the oncoming assault, but the hold Thranduil had on the Prince’s shoulders grew heavier, his liege’s fingers digging deeply though not painfully into his flesh.

He looked to his father, his dread growing. However, Thranduil sighed, his hold slackening until he let go of the Prince. With his customarily merciless hands, Thranduil dotingly brushed the hair from Legolas’ shoulders and implored in a voice that did not mandate, but requested, “There is no need for you to leave for your rooms. Stay here with me a while. Although it has only been a few months since last I have seen you, it seems to have been years, my son.”

He nodded numbly his assent to his father’s invitation, keeping his eyes ever on his father’s own, watching for the dull hatred to resume there, as when last son and sire had been together. “I will stay with you, Ada, for as long as you wish.”

Again, the King placed his hands softly upon Legolas’ shoulders, and though the discomfited Wood-Elf wished to back away from his father, he did not. Legolas did not wish for his King to know how uncomfortable he felt in his presence, nor did he want to insult him. _Ada is not in a sour mood at all,_ Legolas thought wonderingly, watching with well-schooled perplexity as Thranduil moved away to the long chest that Faidnil had not unpacked. Lifting the massive lid, his father sighed as he looked into the trunk.

“I have brought gifts for the Noldor,” the King told him, motioning with his free hand for Legolas to join him beside the opened container. More than a bit curious as to what his father had brought and still somewhat stunned at his King’s behavior, Legolas complied automatically and stood beside his Ada to peer inside. Without surprise, Legolas saw amongst the more common gifts of gold and silver that there were several miniature barrels of wine in the trunk – wine that would be from the King’s personal stores.

_Leave it to Ada to believe that wine is a good gift for anyone._

“I am not as familiar with Elrond’s court as I was once. I was not certain what would be proper to bring him or to whom else I should be gifting.” Picking from the jumble of wrapped items, Thranduil removed a bolt of heavy cloth while closing the lid on the chest with his other. He unwrapped the item, revealing a mithril diadem that had been molded into ringlets of silvern-leaved vines.

“I have brought this for you, and my own, as well.” Handing the circlet to Legolas, Thranduil reproved mildly, “You will wear it tonight. You are a Prince. Do not forget.”

What his father truly meant to say was that Legolas should remember to actas a Prince. The younger Elf again nodded his assent to his father’s advice, though he found it amusing that the King would be reminding his son to be on his best behavior, when it was Legolas who was apprehensive that his father would be the one to cause trouble.

Legolas knew this circlet well, as he was often forced into wearing it during formal occasions in the forest. During most celebrations in the Greenwood, the King and sometimes the Prince would wear natural crowns made of wood and leaves, berries or pine cones and needles, or whatever best signified the season and holiday that was being celebrated. But here in Imladris, or so it seemed to Legolas, the King wanted to display his wealth, and they would both wear crowns that were worth more than the sum of most Elves’ coin and belongings. Gently, the Prince wrapped the crown again in its cloth. His father made his way back to the bed, where he took his place in the middle of the mattress’ edge and resumed judging the room and bed around him for its suitability in housing a King.

 _It will take me an hour to fix this crown so that it sits upon my head properly,_ he jested to himself without humor, placing the swathing and invaluable item within on top of the closed chest. His father had commissioned the making of the Prince’s crown while Legolas was still a child – it had never fit him like it should.

“Sit, Legolas. Sit by your aged Ada,” the King said with a smile of affection that seemed out of place on his father’s face. Thranduil patted the finely quilted bedspread beside him, shy and perhaps a bit fearful that his son would not comply. “Tell me how you have been and how you are now. You look well.”

“I am fine,” he replied without thinking. Legolas was too accustomed to having others ask how he was that he no longer tried to convince them with a more suitable answer. He did as he was asked and sat close to his father upon the bed. They could have sat on one of the couches in the outer chamber, but either way, the laegel felt his discomfort rise. He still expected this reunion to turn violent.

“Legolas,” the King chastised tersely, picking at the grime that coated the elbow of Legolas' tunic. The stern vocalization of his name made the Prince’s wavering attention snap back to Thranduil. “Do they not have baths here, my son? You are filthy with dirt and there are leaves stuck in your hair. You should not be walking around Imladris looking like a pauper.”

He had forgotten about his mucky mien – after his pleasant morning of scuffling and practicing with Estel, the Prince was a mess. Raking his hands through his long hair, Legolas pulled free a few errant leaves, explaining, “I have been in the fields with the warriors. It was there that Kalin found me to tell me that you had arrived. I have not had the chance to bathe.”

Although not pleased, Thranduil seemed appeased, at least, to know that Legolas had some excuse for his appearance. As the import of his son’s words struck him, Thranduil took the young Silvan’s hand in his own. “Does this mean that your leg no longer bothers you as it did before?”

“No, Ada. Minya–,” he began and only then realized that his father might not appreciate hearing his son call Elrond by such a familial sobriquet, changed what he had been about to say. “Lord Elrond has told me that my thigh is healing, that soon it will hinder me no longer.”

“And the voices, my son? Do you hear them still?”

 _He doesn’t wish to talk about breaking Kane’s head open on the floor, but he is more than willing to revisit my humiliation and suffering,_ the Prince rued. He did not hesitate to answer, though, and admitted, “Not for months.” _Not since fleeing your hatred into Estel’s loving company,_ he added to himself.

Watching the King as Thranduil began to rub with his fingers small circles in the top of Legolas’ hand, which was still held between his own, the Prince waited for the voice in question to speak to him, as he was confident that the vile opinion of the scar would not remain unspoken for much longer. It frightened him to find that although he had been sure that he was well and the scar would remain silent forevermore, the King showing this strange devotion had the same worrisome effect on him as if his father were striking or berating him, and the threat of his grief’s return seemed imminent with his father so near. _It is just that I do not trust him,_ the Elf realized. _This devotion is likely a sham._ For these past months in the valley, Legolas had not felt so nervous or distressed as he did now.

“Then your grief is not yet passed,” the King replied with a concerned frown in an unusual show of fatherly concern. “I will speak to Elrond, Legolas, to see what can be done about this.”

He knew there was nothing else that could be done by Elrond that the Elf Lord was not already doing, but did not mention this to his father. They sat quietly for some time, their uneasiness to be together without Legolas apologizing or Thranduil yelling grew until the Prince could bear it no more. The laegel had to know what his father’s intentions were, even if it meant incurring his wrath, so he asked, “If you have not come for reprisal, why have you come to the valley, Ada?”

“I have come to Imladris to see you, Legolas. Does this surprise you?”

It surprised him, yes, and it terrified him, as well. The Prince tried not to let this show. He had learnt many lessons from his father, with one of the most important lessons being that hiding his emotions from the King kept from enflaming the smoldering anger that was ever burning within his Ada. All it took was an off word, a shake of the head, a frown or a smile – it was a fine line that the Prince walked in keeping his King from becoming incensed, his ire engulfing him until it spewed forth like fire from the mouth of a dragon to destroy whoever was in its path. Since Legolas was most often the target, and since millennia-old habits were very hard to break, Legolas kept himself impassive and unobtrusive. He only parroted, “You have come to see me?”

“I know that I ask much of you to request this but humor your father.” Pulling in a deep breath, the King turned away out of ostensible shame and uncertainty. He ran his hands along the finely stitched pillow at the head of the bed, stalling in saying, “Let us start anew, Legolas. Relieve me from the grudges you hold against me.”

He could not imagine his father begging for anything, especially not for his son to forget the years of verbal and physical abuse the King had forced upon him. Suspicion curled up inside the Prince and made its home within his belly. He wanted very much to believe his father’s words, to accept that his father could truly want to begin again, but he had swallowed his Ada’s lies and promises before.

“Let us not dwell on the past any longer.” Thranduil turned back to the Prince, his hesitance now a tight smile.

He could not tell Thranduil that he did not trust him, of course, and so told his King what he wanted to hear, words that were not falsehoods, as he meant his pledge when he swore to Thranduil, “I would be pleased to start anew. I hold no rancor against you, Ada, and hope you hold none against me.”

Smiling widely in relief, the sovereign of Mirkwood reached out for the Prince, who gladly entered his father’s embrace. He laid his head on his father’s shoulder, and though he could not shake the feeling that he was being duped, the proffered chance could not be ignored. If there were a place where father and son could mend the bridges between them that they had burned over the many years, it would be here in the valley, where Thranduil would not be able to do as he pleased, where Legolas would have his Minyatar, lover, and friends with him. This was what the laegel had yearned for, what he had believed could never transpire. It did not occur to him that his father had never agreed that he held no grudge against his son, nor had the King even apologized for his despicable actions.

Instead of making these realizations, Legolas reveled in a feeling he had long ago forsaken, at least when it came to his father – the Prince felt hope, and it was with this optimism that he asked against his father’s shoulder, “How long do you plan to stay in Imladris, Ada?”

“I will stay here as long as it takes.” The King’s embrace tensed around him, encasing the younger Elf so tightly that it stifled the Prince’s breathing. Quietly, Thranduil repeated, “As long as it takes, my son.”


	11. Chapter 11

He had long since grown tired of watching his father sleep, but as he had promised the King that he would remain in the room with him for a while longer, Legolas did not leave, as much as he wished to do so. Instead, he settled back into the chair beside the trunk of gifts his father had brought for the Noldor while wishing he could open it. He had seen only a little of what the vessel contained. It bewildered him to imagine his father giving gifts to any of Elrond’s advisors. Thranduil had said that he was not familiar with Elrond’s council, and this was evident in that he brought gifts at all. Those whom the Peredhel held close in his affairs would not be influenced or flattered with gold or silver, wine or silk cloth; else, they would not be held in Elrond’s confidence in the first place. Being as he did not wish to wake his Ada, Legolas refrained from pacifying his curiosity, and so merely sat watching his father as the King turned over in a strange sleep that appeared neither particularly restful nor wished.

He could not recall when last he had seen his father look so peaceful – despite his restless tossing. The King was not even breathing loudly, when usually his every breath would be inhaled only to exhale some tirade against his son. The heavy slumber of drunkenness was the King’s usual reverie, so perhaps that was why he appeared restive now. Imladris itself had a comforting effect on its occupants, and the Prince could only hope that the valley would help soothe his father’s vindictive nature and lust for wine as it balmed other visitors’ wounds of faer and rhaw.

 _It is nearing time for the feast._ The light in the room was turning dusky as the afternoon turned to early evening. The sounds of Elves outside in the courtyard and beyond was growing louder as they came from all over the valley to attend the feast. The Noldor arrived much earlier than the commencement of the merriment in hopes of finding a seat close to the dais upon which Thranduil, Elrond, and his kin and kith would sit. Between the food, song, dancing, and the sheer number of Elves in attendance, the welcoming celebration was bound to be one that all would speak of for centuries to come. Hearing his fellow Elves outside, busily conversing and enjoying the summer air in enthusiasm to be attending a festivity that would rival anything that any of them had seen for millennia, Legolas decided with a soft sigh, _If I do not leave now, I will never have time to situate this crown upon my head._

Picking up the cloth wrapped diadem from the top of the trunk where he had earlier laid it, the Prince padded quietly through the room as he left to prepare himself for the night ahead, seeking not to wake his sleeping father. When at the door leading out into the hallway, it opened abruptly before him ere he could open it himself, and Faidnil walked into the chambers and nearly into Legolas, though he startled to see the Prince standing right before him and jumped back before bowling over the younger Elf.

“My Prince…” the King’s servant began to apologize, though he did so too loudly, which caused Legolas to raise his hand to stave off Faidnil’s unnecessary contrition.

“The King is still sleeping – let him rest a few moments more,” he instructed, keeping his voice low. “Fetch a tub and hot water for him to bathe, and if during your toil he does not rouse, wake him when you are done, please. Tell him that I have left to dress for the ceremony and I will see him there.”

“Of course, my Prince,” Faidnil replied, bowing slightly to Legolas. With an assessing gaze, Faidnil spoke with forthrightness only a trusted and longtime servant might dare, instructing, “I will send water to your rooms, as well, Legolas. Your hair is matted and your face is smudged with dirt!”

Holding his crown under his arm, Legolas smiled at Faidnil, who had been a mainstay in the laegel’s life. “Thank you,” he said, leaving to walk to his rooms, expecting that Aragorn would be waiting for him there, though when he arrived, the Ranger was nowhere to be found.

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Aragorn opened the door without knocking, swinging the portal open to peer inside the Prince’s room. He did not see anyone, not immediately, although he had already concluded that Legolas was now in the room or had been here very recently. Along the hallway, ceasing just at the laegel’s door, were drying drops of water, most likely having fallen from the buckets the servants would have used to carry hot water into the laegel’s personal bathing room. He waited a moment just inside the threshold, listening to the quiet of the room for some sign that Legolas was within, and hearing nothing, inquired, “Greenleaf? Are you in here?”

Receiving no answer, the concerned Ranger began to ask again, when the Elf called somewhat belatedly from within the bathing room, “Estel!”

He walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Although his lover sounded well, the human was immediately frightened. Yes, there had been water in the hall, indicating that Legolas was actually bathing, and yes, unlike the last time Aragorn had walked into a bathing room to find his lover nearly exsanguinated by his own hand after a meeting with his hateful father, this time would not be the same. He had no idea of what had occurred between father and son this afternoon, no faith in Thranduil to believe that the Prince would be well and uninjured, and he was beside himself with worry as he entered the bathing chambers to check on the Wood-Elf.

In the fragrant and milky, soapy water, not lying in a pool of blood or appearing harmed at all, sat Legolas as naked as the day of his birth. The laegel was roughly cleaning with a cloth, hurried in his motions as he tried to rid himself of the dirt under his short fingernails. Legolas looked up at the Ranger when Estel said nothing, but only stood there, staring. “Have you not even bathed? They will soon be eating without us if we do not hasten.”

“I have been helping the twins with the last of their duties before the feast starts,” he explained. “Have you been with your father this whole time?”

“Yes, though he was sleeping when I left him.” When Aragorn remained as he was, eyeing the Elf’s face, arms, and his back as he turned to grab a bottle of fragrant soap oil to clean his hair, Legolas finally advised, “The water is still warm – get in before it is cold. We don’t have time to wait for more hot water.”

A sigh of relief later, the Adan was peeling off his dirty boots and muddy clothing and then climbing the few steps it took to sit upon the marbled edge of the platform in which the tub was inset. He swung his long legs and then himself into the tepid pool of water, remaining on the opposite side as Legolas so that he would not be tempted to help the Elf in his task of washing. They had no time for playing, no time for Aragorn to pacify his need to hold the Elf until he was assured of his lover’s health and well-being once more. Already, the first arrivals to the banquet were in the hall of fire, and the smells and sounds of the feast carried throughout the house and the valley, calling to the invited populace of Imladris.

“What did you find out about your father’s reason for coming here, Greenleaf?” he asked without preamble.

Reaching behind him for another cloth, the Wood-Elf threw it at the Adan, who caught it before it hit him in the chest. “He said that he only came to see me,” the laegel replied in a rush, adding, “But we can speak of this later. I am not listening to him complain that we are late. Let us hurry.”

 _Then at least there will be a later in which we can speak,_ he thought. He had expected Legolas to be on his way out of the valley with Thranduil right now, and though he was happy that this was not the case, he did not believe that the King of Mirkwood’s only reason for showing in the valley was to see his son. Assuring himself, _After the banquet, I will find out all I need to know of Legolas’ meeting with his father,_ the human dunked the cloth in the water and worked as quickly as he could to catch up to the Elf in regards to preparing himself for the feast, finishing just as Legolas was climbing out of the tub to find a towel. Seeing all of his lover’s nude body, the Ranger sighed with further relief – there were no angry marks upon the alabaster flesh.

He climbed out behind Legolas, grabbing the offered towel though he did not stop to dry himself as he walked into the laegel’s bedroom, following the Elf. Seeing Legolas’ clothing on his bed, it occurred to him that he had not thought to gather garments from his room before bathing. So intent was he on trying to brush through and also entangle his damp hair around the crown his father had given him to wear, the naked and sopping Legolas gave no notice when Estel said, “I will return in a moment.”

Aragorn hurried to don the Prince’s sleeping robe, though it was slightly too small for him and he was forced to hold it tightly around him to cover his skin as he stepped quickly across the hall and into his own chamber. Letting the robe fly open the moment he had his door shut, the Ranger yanked it from his shoulders and set about trying to find something suitable to wear for the feast tonight. He’d given so much thought to the laegel’s meeting with Thranduil and what might occur upon the King’s arrival that he had not expected for there to be a feast tonight – he had not expected the King to stay for it.

Estel would not give more reason for Thranduil to dislike him by appearing at such an important event dressed slovenly. He owned clothing that was of high quality, through commission and consideration of his foster father, but he abhorred such embellishments, so dug through his chest of drawers until he found clothing that was neither stained, tattered, nor too drab, but also not as fine as anything that he knew his own family would be donning. _Thranduil will have to accept me as I am._

Gone only a few moments, the Ranger’s nerves frayed evermore the longer it took him to dress. _Legolas is not leaving my sight again tonight._ The Elf was only across the hall. He was in no danger. Aragorn’s mind paid no heed to such rationale, and he only thought as he pulled on his clothing as quickly as he could, _Thranduil has behaved himself thus far, but nor was he drunk this afternoon when he arrived. He will be soused before the end of the feast, I am sure of it. Greenleaf will not be alone with his father after the feast._

Now fully dressed though he was hardly dry, his clothing stuck to his wet skin and his hair drenched the shoulders of his tunic. Upon his swift return to the Elf’s rooms, Aragorn found that Legolas was faring better than he was at getting dressed. The Elf had even put on intricately stitched doeskin boots that had never seen dirt outside the hallways of Imladris, a pair of leggings that were just as soft and tamed as the leather of his boots, and the same color as well, and both hugged the Wood-Elf’s body tightly. The sleeveless tunic the Silvan wore was the color of pine needles, while the undershirt beneath it was as white as the froth left by the waterfalls of the Bruinen.

Caught off his guard at the magnificence of his princely lover, the Ranger walked behind the Wood-Elf, slipping his arms around the golden Elf’s waist upon his approach, all of his worry forgotten as he inhaled the clean scent of Legolas’ hair. However, the Wood-Elf was not in the mood to be admired; he hissed with frustration, “Why my father brought this contraption, I cannot guess, unless it is merely to cause me aggravation. All in Imladris know I am a Prince without seeing me in this gaudy circlet!”

With this, the annoyed Wood-Elf tossed his crown to the settee, where it bounced and would have fallen to the floor, had not Estel acted quickly to grab it – he caught the silvern ornamentation with one hand, his other still holding to the laegel’s waist. He laughed as he righted himself, holding the circlet out to the Elf, who glared at Estel’s reflection in the looking glass before them and refused to take the crown. It amused him to see the Elf so flustered. Legolas was not usually one to care for ceremony or decorum, but tonight was not about him, it was planned for his father, and anything he might do to upset his King would only ruin the night for everyone. Perhaps it should have concerned him to see the laegel so apprehensive over what his father thought of his attire, but Estel was more amused than worried.

“Sit, Greenleaf, and let me worry with it a moment.”

A smirk of incredulity passed over his lover’s features, but regardless of this, Legolas sat twisted on the settee, his back to the Ranger as he awaited the human to aid him. Snickering with unconcealed amusement, the Silvan did not speak aloud of his teasing disbelief that Aragorn could possibly fix the crown on his head but his friendly skepticism was apparent.

“I am good at knots,” he chided, slipping a strand of the Elf’s hair through the tiny loop where it was intended to keep the circlet upon the Prince’s head. “You should not doubt me.”

“You are good at making knots in your own hair, that is true,” the Prince retorted back with true annoyance, though it was not Aragorn with whom he was disgruntled and the human did not take offense. “My father must have believed I would grow up to have the neck of a Troll, so heavy is this crown.”

Again, the Ranger laughed at the Wood-Elf’s aggravation, causing Legolas to thrust out his elbow playfully, aiming for the human’s belly. He evaded the elbow easily enough but stopped his laughter and settled for grinning down at the Silvan’s aureate head. There was no point in making Legolas' mood any worse even should he find it humorous to see the laegel so uncharacteristically soured.

Satisfied that he had secured the circlet properly and that it was sitting evenly upon the Elf’s hair, he patted the Prince on the shoulder, telling him, “I will let you see to the rest.”

And the laegel did so, finishing braiding his hair how he wanted it while Estel found his boots. Seeing that they were covered in mud and leaves, he took them out on the balcony to knock free the muck there. When he returned, the Elf was finished, and while the human sat down to put on his boots, the Silvan stepped back, smoothing his already perfect hair with his hands as he inquired, “Do I look like a Prince now? Or do you think my father will send me back here to change clothing? I have nothing any finer here in the valley, I’m afraid, though I could borrow something from the twins. Their clothing doesn’t quite fit,” the Elf continued, adjusting his tunic so that it lay straight, “but I can make it suffice if need be.”

It had been a very long time since he had seen the Elf with a crown on his head. The King usually required it of Legolas for ceremony in Mirkwood, such as the holidays and festivals where the Prince was required to have some part in a speech or ceremony. For the most part, Aragorn had not been in the Great Forest for these times. The beautiful crown together with the Prince’s fine clothing and natural radiance made Estel reply with all honesty, “Your father will be most displeased with you, Greenleaf. I fear you will be the center of attention tonight, rather than him.”

The Wood-Elf’s aggravation slipped away, and he shook his head at the human with an unwilling smile. “Perhaps I should change, then.”

Taking his lover by the arm, the Ranger walked him to the door, where he then opened it for the laegel, letting Legolas walk through it before him so that he could admire the sight of the tight cloth of the Wood-Elf’s trousers hugging the pert swell of his rear. “You could change into sackcloth and still be the most beautiful Elf at the feast tonight, my love.”

Finally, Aragorn achieved his goal of breaking the Elf’s irritated dismay, for Legolas laughed heartily at this strange compliment. He slipped his arm back through the Ranger’s so that they could walk down the hall together once Estel had shut the door. Even this far into the house, Noldor were gathering, speaking in small groups as they awaited the vast banquet to start. At the entrance closest to the short dais where Elrond’s family and guests would be seated, the two lovers found Elrohir and Elladan engaged in conversation with Thranduil and a few of their father’s advisors. The twins, much better at hiding their true feelings about the King, were playing the part of hosts tonight without a hint of ire about events that had occurred in months past.

At the approach of Estel and Legolas, the advisors bid their goodbyes to the King respectfully. Aragorn was once more pleased that the laegel did not try to hide from his father that his arm was entwined with the human’s arm.

“We thought you would never show,” Elrohir said when the lovers were close, winking at the Ranger with hidden meaning, which only served to cause Aragorn more discomfort.

“How many baths did it take before you were able to show this evening, not including the two you took this morning?” the elder twin continued, laughing at his twin and his own jest, and then at their human brother’s uneasiness for them to be teasing him about such a thing in front of the King.

Even though Thranduil did not understand the allusion to what Legolas had told the twins that morning of his and the Ranger’s need for multiple baths, the King was not so daft that he did not catch the ribald undercurrent to Elrohir and Elladan’s jest. Much to the Ranger’s delight, who had been worried that his jokester brothers would embarrass the laegel, Legolas chuckled a time or two before admitting, “It took us only one bath to make it here this evening, but then, we only had the time for bathing.”

While the twins laughed in surprised amusement at their friend’s equally suggestive joke, a peeved King Thranduil locked his arm through his son’s, pulling the Prince away from the human and with him out of the secluded and small hallway and into the waiting crowd of Elves. Giving the twins an amused grin, Aragorn followed thereafter.

As he had expected, every Elf short of the border patrol and those whose duties or health precluded their attending had shown for the celebration tonight. Already a crowd of conceited Elves were gathered at the dais to speak to Thranduil, to curry favor from a leader of equal importance as their own, and to wile their way into trade agreements, exert their influence and opinions, and some merely to be seen speaking to the wealthy King, as if this in itself would increase their own worth. Legolas made introductions to any Elf who Thranduil had not yet greeted and helped his father make polite conversation with anyone who wanted to speak to the King of Mirkwood. From where he sat upon the high dais, the Ranger only watched the festivities, but mostly, he watched his Greenleaf. The laegel was a warrior, a friend, and now his lover, but Legolas was also a diplomatist: this was a side of the Prince that Aragorn seldom saw. He sipped his wine and waited. The human hated these types of feasts; celebrating a plentiful harvest or a good year was one thing, but celebrating the coming of a King that all of Elrond’s family disliked, save maybe for Elrond himself as he had never expressed his opinion of Thranduil, was quite another in the Adan’s thinking.

When it seemed that the Elves were beginning to seat themselves at the many tables in the dining hall, with so many Elves, it seemed, that there was no room for all of them to be accommodated, the commotion within the room began to quiet. Indeed, already servants were running to fetch tables from other parts of the house to place all that needed to be seated for the meal to begin, and many were seated outside in the gardens, as there was no room left inside the magnificent and vaulted hall. The high-pitched sounds of Elflings running and laughing became audible once the music from the instruments and the bard’s singing trailed off, and then, even the Elflings quieted as a hush fell over the masses when Lord Elrond entered the room and made his way to where his family was seated. At this, Legolas and Thranduil came to be seated, as well, with the laegel across from the Ranger, and Thranduil beside his son.

He half-listened as his father spoke on behalf of his people, saying much as he had in the courtyard earlier that day, welcoming the King, his sentries and servants, and reaffirming the alliance between their realms. Thranduil accepted this welcome and speech with a feigned graciousness unlike his suspicion that afternoon in this very room while talking to Elrond, but none in the crowd would have known it, so grateful did he act.

Then, the meal was served. Platters were passed between tables, servants ran around the hall and outside, seeing to it that all had food to eat, and bringing more from the kitchens when the last slice of roasted meat, piece of fruit, or portion of bread was taken from a plate. The whole of the house was in cheerful, organized chaos. Sitting still through the dinner was harder on Aragorn than he could have imagined. Luckily for the Ranger, or perhaps even more so for Thranduil, the King was kept busy speaking to those around him, though he constantly spoke to Legolas during these conversations, drawing his son into them by asking him questions and deferring to his progeny in some matters that were Legolas’ duty to oversee in Eryn Galen, though he had not been there to see to them as of late.

Aragorn ate perfunctorily, minding more that Greenleaf ate than that he ate, and listening to the conversation only enough to be polite.

The lively music played by the Elves close to them seemed to rise as many of the Noldor had finished their meals and were taking to the floors for dancing and flirting. Tables were moved and dishes cleared to make room for the swell of Elves. The twins seemed eager to begin their own revelry, as well, though propriety kept them at the table, where they listened to and commented patiently upon Thranduil’s conversation as he spoke to their father and his advisors. From the way Elladan and Elrohir kept glancing out to the floor, both of them would rather have been amidst their kith, plying she-Elves with compliments and smiles.

With much delight, Aragorn noted the Prince’s sentry Kalin was dancing with Faelthîr, the healer who he had a few days before met while walking with the Ranger to the apothecary. Not far from Kalin was Glorfindel, who was speaking quietly with Erestor, before both of them parted ways. He watched with interest as Glorfindel left the room from one entryway, while Erestor took another. _They are trying not to let on that they are meeting together somewhere. Let us hope they can find some time alone in the library tonight,_ he mused with a smile, though his thoughts of the library soon led him to remember his own time there a few nights ago, and he turned back to watching the laegel sitting across from him.

The King was asking Legolas about something – of what the Ranger had not heard, but his lover’s reply he caught, as the Prince said, “Perhaps when Estel and I return, Ada.” Legolas softened his rejection with a kind smile, one that Thranduil returned stiffly, Estel noted, and wondered of what they were speaking.

The King’s stilted affection could not hide his disappointment. “You are leaving, Legolas? Where do you go?”

“A hunting trip into the woods. We will return in a few weeks’ time,” the Prince explained. Aragorn watched as without looking, Legolas pushed around the fruit on his plate in absentminded anxiety. “We had planned to leave a few days ago, but remained to see your arrival.”

 _He is keeping his oath to me._ Legolas had promised the Ranger that they would still leave after a suitable time for the Prince to ascertain for what reason his father had come to Imladris, but to tell the King the very night of his arrival – it pleased the human to see that his lover was keeping his word in a different matter; that is, the Elf was not acquiescing to his father without at least trying to have his own way. The King had not spoken to the human a single time during dinner, and Aragorn felt suddenly as if he should assert his presence, to undermine Thranduil’s negative influence in Legolas’ life with the Adan’s positive own. In that split moment before the King began to use guilt to try to keep his son in the valley instead of leaving with the Ranger, Aragorn decided to deflect the King’s tiring nagging with false consideration.

“You are more than welcome to accompany us on our hunting trip, King Thranduil,” he challenged surreptitiously, fully expecting that the sovereign would never wish to trail his son and his lover through the woods, much less any game. “But as you have only just arrived, perhaps you would prefer to recuperate in the valley.”

Aragorn saw the utmost surprise on the laegel’s face, his twin brothers’ identical expression of subdued hilarity, and his father’s knowing frown. Most of all, he watched the sly smile that crossed the King’s mouth, before it straightened into its usual morose scowl. He suddenly had the feeling that though he had been trying to outwit Thranduil, he had instead somehow fallen into the elder Elf’s ploy.

“It is not often that I have the chance to hunt.” The King drew his bottle of wine to him, pouring himself a tall glass of it. He looked the Ranger squarely in the eye as he accepted the invitation, “I will join you. I would enjoy exploring the forests around the valley, and had planned to do so later, though now is as good a time as any.” Drinking heavily from his glass, Thranduil asked Elrond, “As long as you take no offense to my taking leave of your hospitality so soon?”

“Of course not. Your welcome here in the Last Homely House will still stand upon your return.” Elrond asked his twin sons pointedly, though his insinuation that they had best join the Ranger and Prince’s expedition was subtle, “You are going, as well?”

“We had not decided,” Elrohir demurred for himself and his brother, as they had never been invited to go and had actually not heard of the Prince and Ranger’s plans until now, and each looked to his twin for an answer.

However, both seemed to realize that they would be required to leave with the Silvan and Ranger, now that Thranduil went, also. “But we will accompany them,” Elladan assured, teasing, “I do not know of your ability to cook, King Thranduil, but if we were to leave you with our brother and Greenleaf, you’d soon be back in Imladris just to find something worth eating.”

Both the King and Elrond laughed, relieving the table of the awkward ambience that Aragorn’s challenge had wrought. The two leaders went back to their conversation, while the twins soon excused themselves to make their way to the waiting she-Elves, but not without first giving their human brother sympathetic smiles of humor and encouragement. From across the table, the Wood-Elf was staring back at him without any emotion, while next to him, Thranduil still smirked his jubilation at this strange victory.

 _I am an idiot,_ he told himself, his mind moving slowly in understanding that his vindictive offer had been turned against him and his time alone with the laegel now to be time with the King, of all people.

Eager to explain himself to the fuming laegel, Aragorn suggested to Legolas, “Shall we join the others in dancing?”

Without even nodding or giving the Ranger any indication that he agreed, Legolas stood and began to stride towards the beckoning yard outside the hall, leaving the human to quicken his pace to keep up with him as the Elf led them away from the festivities. 


	12. Chapter 12

_I will throttle him,_ the Prince decided, taking the human by the hand once they were near enough to the colonnade leading to the gardens beyond. It took a moment for them to make it far enough away from the house to find a place devoid of the roiling crowd of Elves laughing and singing as they enjoyed the celebration. Aragorn followed dumbly behind Legolas, letting the Elf pull him by the hand until the Prince finally let his limb free. He headed towards a natural blockade made by a few gnarled and tall flowering bushes, speeding his step such that the Adan was forced into extending his own gait to keep up with his lover.

As he walked, the Prince prepared his tirade at the Ranger, the bitter words coming to ask what had compelled the human to challenge his father, even under the guise of invitation. _He is mad to think that Ada will not cause trouble on this outing! For Estel even to consider that Ada will allow us to enjoy ourselves – he has lost his wits._ The idea of Thranduil joining them was preposterous. The King would make their entire trip a nerve-wracking experience. But as Legolas finally stopped walking so that he could speak to Estel, all anger left him at the perplexed appearance of the human, who was looking back over his shoulder at where his own Ada and Legolas’ father were speaking upon the portico, having moved outside to enjoy the night air like many of the other Elves. _It seems that Estel did not aim to invite my father after all. He must not have expected Ada to meet the dare._

His acerbic words left him with his fury. Legolas sighed. He had no need to remonstrate the Ranger, not when from the Adan’s disheartened look the human was already aware that he had ruined everything. “Estel, my love,” he said, which drew Aragorn’s attention away from the revelries inside and to his mate. “You are daft.”

“I am daft,” Aragorn repeated, saying it not as if he were questioning the idea _or_ agreeing to it.

Legolas shook his head in bemusement. Smiling at the puzzled man and grabbing one of the Ranger’s ears in each hand, the Prince pulled the human to him by this hold to plant a quick buss on the Adan’s bewhiskered mouth. Much as his mind seemed to be working sluggishly this night, the human’s reactions were slowed, too, and he acted to return the kiss only after Legolas had begun to pull away; he then stared confusedly at the Elf. Moonbeams from overhead filtered down between the branches of the tree under which they stood, and by this moonlight, the laegel could see that Aragorn knew that Thranduil had bested him, for his shoulders slumped in defeat and his whiskery face wore a glum grimace.

“I thought he would say no,” the Adan began his explanation apologetically, looking back to the two leaders as they spoke together. However, remembering that he was supposed to be supporting his lover’s attempt at reconciliation with his father, the Ranger then amended as he returned his regard to Legolas, “But it is well that he said yes. It will give us time for him to adapt to our being together, and perhaps he and I will find some common ground other than our mutual dislike of the other.”

It was obvious that the human was explaining away something he had never intended to happen, as if he had intended it to be so all along. The Prince didn’t mind, for perhaps his lover’s suggestion would prove to bring about these very things. Legolas laughed at the Adan’s quick justification for his plans gone awry. He stepped away a few feet, out of sight of the Elves outside the Last Homely House, and more behind the bushes, which prompted Aragorn to follow him.

“My father will bring Ninan and may require Kalin to accompany us for my protection, and if he does not also order his other guards to come, as well, then it will at least be the five of us. We will have no time alone,” the laegel warned, although he was aware that the Ranger must have already realized this, as well.

“We will make time, Greenleaf. And if your father requires so many of his sentries for protection, then I believe I will beg the twins not to back out of agreeing to come,” he joked in return with little enthusiasm. “They have said they would, but neither seemed keen to travel with us.”

To maintain some privacy, they walked even farther from the Elves laughing and speaking in the gardens, leaving the bushes to wander aimlessly towards the river beyond. At this point in the evening’s festivities, there were few who had ventured so far from the Last Homely House and even fewer who were already making their way home. None wanted to be the first to leave the King’s welcoming feast, and perhaps many of them still anticipated some spectacle to occur during the event. Had they been sitting at the dinner table with their leader, his family, and his guests, they would have already seen the spectacle, meek though it had been.

“As I told you earlier, he wants to start anew,” the laegel told his lover once he was sure that they were beyond earshot of possible passersby. “He did not come for any reason other than to see me, to ask my forgiveness.”

His grey eyes narrowed, Estel asked, “So he does not want you to leave with him? He seeks not to take you home sooner than you had promised him?”

“He did not even mention returning home… and when I asked him how long he planned to stay in Imladris, he told me that he would stay as long as it takes for us to reconcile.”

Legolas could see that Aragorn did not believe the King’s reasoning – that he did not trust Thranduil. Smartly, the human did not mention this distrust, which heartened the laegel, as he hoped that this meant that Aragorn would not interfere. He had to give his father this chance and he also hoped that perhaps Estel would be willing to do the same.

“If no one murders anyone else on this hunting trip,” Legolas ventured, poking the human in his side in merry teasing, “then we will make time for another one. A longer one for just the two of us. I promise you.”

Neatly, the Ranger evaded another sharp jab from the Wood-Elf’s long fingers with a quick step away, although he strode back just as quickly to shove Legolas lightly in his hip. From the rising smile in the human’s grim face, the laegel could tell that Estel was now appeased that he had not ruined the chance to be alone with his lover. _We will just have to wait longer before we can be alone in the wilds together, but we will still go,_ he promised himself, just as eager as the Ranger to be free of the confines of the Last Homely House. _By the time that we return from this hunting trip with Ada, we will both likely need to flee the valley just to keep sane._ Although his thoughts were in jest, he looked to the human ambling alongside him. _I truly hope that the two of them can be civil._

Without intending to but lost in their own thoughts, the two had walked so quickly and so far that they were beyond the gardens and cultured chaos of the surrounding grounds. The river lay before them, babbling its way through the valley, slowing as the momentum it had picked up from the falls began to dwindle, and its lethargy began again. Upon noticing, the Wood-Elf halted their companionably silent walk.

“We should go back,” he told his Ranger with a loud exhale. “Both of our fathers will be wondering where we are.”

Estel sidled up behind the Prince, and with his hands wrapping themselves around the laegel’s wrists, the human kept Legolas from leaving with a wicked grin that Legolas could not see but heard clearly in the Ranger’s voice as he remarked, “They are too busy to notice we are gone, and if they do, let them wonder where we are.” The human slid his arms now around Legolas’ waist, inviting the laegel to lean back until nearly all of the Prince’s slight weight rested upon the Adan’s form.

Legolas had not yet grown accustomed to the touch of his lover. Each time Estel held him, stroked his back or hair, or kissed him, it was as if it were the first time, every time. Just standing here by the river, leaning his back into Estel, the Ranger’s chin resting on the Silvan’s shoulder, caused the Prince’s body to awaken as it had never before Estel. Even the acute senses of his Elven heritage did not compare to the heightening of his corporeal senses by the human’s mere touch.

 _I could stand here forever,_ the Elf thought, closing his eyes.

“Legolas,” came the call from not far away.

Reluctantly, the Prince pulled away from the human’s embrace, sighing as he did so, just as his sentry came into view. Kalin blushed lightly, his discomfort in having happened upon a private moment between his Prince and his lover obvious in how he turned away as if not to watch the two, although nothing colorful was occurring.

“Legolas,” the sentry explained with apology tainting his voice, “the King thought you had gone this way. He wishes you to join him.”

He sighed again. His father had been here for not even half a day and he was already keeping his son at his beck and call, interrupting his time alone with Aragorn. However, the Silvan pushed these bothersome thoughts away, for his King had only just arrived and already the Prince was irritated with his father. _I am not being fair,_ he realized and so advised himself, _To give my father a second chance means that we must both change our ways, not just Ada._

“If I do not get the opportunity to escape my father before, then I will meet you in my chambers after the feast ends,” the laegel told the equally disappointed Ranger, “You have much more apologizing to do for being so rash, Master Human.”

He left the now grinning Ranger standing by the river. Straightening the crown upon his head, which he felt was tipping to one side, though he had not a mirror to see it nor to fix it, the Silvan followed Kalin from the woods and back to the house. He thought uncharitably, _Ada likely wants nothing, but probably saw us walking away from the feast and did not wish us to be alone!_

With more urgency than was warranted, Kalin led the way to the Last Homely House, causing Legolas to wonder what had the sentry in such a hurry. Once at the colonnade, Kalin nodded to Legolas and began to walk away. Before Kalin had a chance to leave, to go back to the smiling Faelthîr who was waiting across the way for him – Legolas noted with a smirk – he caught the sentry by his tunic’s sleeve, yanking Kalin into a stop.

“My Prince?” the sentry asked as he turned around.

Legolas queried, “Did my father tell you that he is accompanying Estel and me on our hunting trip?”

“The King told me when asking me to fetch you, yes. I will come, of course, if you wish me to,” the sentry said quietly, hesitating in his offering, and it was this that confirmed what the laegel had just been guessing, for normally Kalin would have tried to insist on accompanying his Prince and did not often pass by the chance to hunt, either.

Trying his best not to grin at his love-stricken friend, the Prince nodded his head, giving no indication that he noticed that Kalin could not seem to pay attention, but was constantly looking back to where Faelthîr stood. _He has fallen for this she-Elf!_

“There is no need for it. Ninan will be coming with us, I am sure, and we will not be straying far from the valley. Stay here and enjoy yourself,” he offered, clapping Kalin on the back amiably and telling him, “I will see to it that Ada does not require your presence.”

With an earnest thanks to his Prince, the sentry was shoving past his fellow Elves to reach the she-Elf healer who awaited him. Legolas watched them for a moment, but then looked around the hall for his father. He found his King sitting back at the dinner table, in some discussion between two elders of Elrond’s advisors, both of whom Legolas did not know much about, save that they were friends of his Minyatar. Upon his approach, Thranduil gave his son an unusually pleasant and welcoming smile, and the Prince guessed, _Ah, it is to save him from these two that my father required me._ Legolas joined their discussion, seeing to it that the two elders did not harass his father, their younger by many years, overly much with their aged wisdom.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aragorn had stayed at the river for a while after Legolas left with Kalin. He had watched the water and listened to the chirping crickets. The pale light from the moon created strange shadows on the surface of the water. It should have been a peaceful few moments. Instead, the Ranger seethed. The short reprieve with Legolas had calmed his irritation at himself for being so easily bested by Thranduil, but now he felt vexed with the King.

 _This is the measure of Thranduil’s visit. I will truly not have time alone with Legolas. Thranduil says that he comes to Imladris to reconcile, and perhaps this is so, but only because he wishes to use this reasoning to keep Legolas away from me._ It was his own fault that he had secured the King’s placement betwixt him and Legolas during their hunting trip, he knew, and railed at himself as he walked back to the Last Homely House alone, _I have made matters worse by giving him the opportunity to interfere all the more._

When he was finally back in the hall, Aragorn looked about the room for Legolas, and seeing him sitting with his father, who was pouring himself yet another glass of wine, the Ranger left them to it. He had promised himself that he would not allow the Prince to be alone with his father, and though he had failed earlier that afternoon, now that the King was drinking, the Adan assured himself that he would not fall short again. He sat alone for only a few moments before Glorfindel entered the hall through the door by which the Ranger sat. By instinct, the commander turned to face the human directly, feeling Aragorn’s eyes watching him. He nodded to Estel, commenting, “I would have thought more Elves would have left the hall by now, but it seems that this feast will last into the wee hours of the night.”

“Perhaps a few have left. I saw that you left earlier, and Erestor, as well. Had you some pressing matter to attend to?” He gave the elder Elf a knowing smile without thinking of it, which was not at all appreciated by Glorfindel. “You’ve missed a button,” he pointed out to the commander, pointing to where the Elf’s tunic was misaligned.

Had he been anyone else, the commander might have blushed. Glorfindel only crossed his arms over his chest, came closer to the chair where the Ranger sat, and stared emotionlessly at the human with his steady gaze until it was the human that became flustered and looked away.

“We are returning to the borders tomorrow afternoon,” the commander said by way of explanation, an elucidation that told Aragorn that Glorfindel and Erestor had been in a hurry tonight in their reunion.

His mind on other things, the Ranger only commented conversationally, “You leave so soon?”

The warrior nodded and fixed his tunic. Straightening it and his back when he turned to the crowd around them once more, Glorfindel told the Ranger, “Mithfindl told me his father would want him to stay in the valley while the King was here, in case he was needed, rather than going back to the borders,” the commander offered without prelude. Why Mithfindl’s whereabouts and actions were of concern to Estel needed no justification, however, and he continued, “I imagine that he remains to try to earn Thranduil’s favor. Since his father is in Lothlórien for the time being, Mithfindl has his chance at Thranduil. His father would likely try to keep him away from the Elvenking in case it would become known that he accosted Legolas in the woods this spring.” The Balrog-slayer turned his attention back to the crowd around them, seeking out the silver-haired Elf of whom they spoke, but not seeing him, he looked back to Estel to admit, “I believe I am beginning to feel sorry for Mithfindl.”

The Ranger shook his head at his childhood teacher, disbelieving that the commander had any sympathy for the foul Noldo. His mood was already dark and he had no wish to benight it further with a discussion over Mithfindl. “Do we speak of the same Mithfindl, or is there some other crass and perverted Elf here with the misfortune of having the same name?”

“You think only of what happened to Legolas in the forest that day and not what has happened to Mithfindl after.” When the human only looked blankly back at the commander, for truly he had no idea of what Glorfindel was implying, the elder Elf explained, “He was overcome, Estel, and by a human, no less, when you confronted him on the field that morning. Of course, the twins had some part in it, but in their ribbing, most of the other warriors do not allow Mithfindl any slack for that. And Mithfindl had few friends amongst his fellow warriors before – most of them were only friendly because of his father’s position.”

The Ranger stood to seek out his lover in the crowd as the reminder of what had almost happened to the Elf caused him to remember his own concerns. He calmed once he found Legolas again, this time standing with his King amidst a group of merchants. The Ranger sat back in the chair behind him, followed shortly by Glorfindel, who perched on the next seat in line, sitting on its edge as if ready to stand at a moment’s notice.

“I have heard word that Lord Thialid nearly disowned his son when he found out how Mithfindl had shamed his family. Whereas before, Mithfindl had hoped to obtain station amongst Elrond’s advisors, similar to his father, it is now said that Thialid will never petition or seek for such a position for his son. Indeed, it is even said that Thialid begged Mithfindl to go to the Grey Havens and sail, to relieve his father of the disgrace he has wrought by his actions.”

Of the time that he had spent here after returning to the valley from Mirkwood months ago, Aragorn had heard none of this, and he wondered, _The twins must not know, either, else they would have mentioned it. Or, they have not because they did not want Legolas to worry over such matters._

Hearing this did not make the human sympathetic at all. It would not have bothered him in the least if Mithfindl had gone to Valinor on the next ship sailing or if he would be a pauper for the rest of his days. “How do you know this? Why do you think this, Glorfindel, and why do you tell me?” he asked in exasperation. This was not a good time for the commander to be adding more burdens to the Ranger’s shoulders.

“Erestor has told me some of it, as Thialid is a close friend to him.” Moving even more off his chair until it seemed that none of the commander’s rear was resting on its seat, Glorfindel told the human, “It is my job to know and understand the warriors, Estel, to appease them when they are disquieted, to guide them when they are without direction. Mithfindl was a spoilt and selfish Elf before, not cruel except in that he only thought of himself. Now, however, he is changed. Being the brunt of the other warriors’ jokes, shunned by those he sought to court because his reputation is blemished after having been bested by a human…if all knew of what had happened in the forest this past spring, he would be ostracized completely. Luckily, it has not spread beyond those of us involved, except that Elrond deemed it wise to tell Thialid.”

“Mithfindl does not concern me,” he told the commander, interrupting what Glorfindel might continue to say. He had no wish to hear how his fight with Mithfindl had ruined the silvern-haired warrior’s status in the valley. “It is regrettable for him that his ambitions are foiled, but it is the result of his actions against Legolas that have caused this. I am not at fault.”

“I am only warning you,” the commander told the Ranger, leaning in closer to deliver his advice, saying, “Mithfindl may find no favor here, but he will find it where he can.” Nodding in the general direction of the dais where Legolas now sat talking with his father and a few dignitaries, Glorfindel ended, “Do not forget that Mithfindl is the son of one of Elrond’s most influential advisors, that his father seeks to get him out of the valley, and that King Thranduil will do anything to keep you and Legolas apart. As I told you earlier, after Mithfindl returned from bringing word of the King's arrival, he and Thranduil shared wine every night on our way here. They took meals together, and when the King wished to wash his face and hair just before our arrival, it was Mithfindl alone who showed him where the creek lay.” Looking unnaturally vexed, the normally unflappable warrior shook his head in consternation. He waited a moment for a servant to pass before he continued, “I did not wish for them to spend any time alone. I do not trust either.”

“Even Thranduil is not so foolish to befriend Mithfindl. He would only need to know that Mithfindl attacked his son when he was grieving.” Snorting in disbelief, the Ranger smiled at the commander, thinking for a brief moment that his teacher was trying to frighten him. However, Glorfindel was not jesting and no humor lay in his dark eyes. “So then you do not believe that Thranduil has come here seeking reconciliation?”

The commander did not speak for a few moments before he told the Ranger his ominous portent. “It is not whether Thranduil would accept Mithfindl into service that we need worry about, for perhaps you are right in that respect, but we ought to worry about what Mithfindl would do in his efforts to gain Thranduil’s favor.”

Unable to think of what the Noldo might do to try to ascertain a position in Thranduil’s halls, when it seemed obvious to Estel that he would find none, given that Legolas surely held more sway over his father than Mithfindl could hope to obtain, Aragorn stewed for a moment in Glorfindel’s advice. _The only deal I can imagine Mithfindl making to assure himself a place in the King’s court would involve ridding Thranduil of me,_ he thought with a loud snort of sardonic humor, but the thought sent a chill through him and his dismissal of Glorfindel’s words did not come so easily now.

“But I hope that you are right, and that Erestor and I fret too much over our charges,” the fair commander ribbed his long ago student with a smile, interrupting the Ranger’s ruminations.

He nodded, hoping that this was the case, as well, but now more worried than he had been before. When a servant walked by bearing a tray of mugs with fruit sweetened water, the Ranger grabbed one and downed it quickly, for he felt suddenly feverish. _Depending on how long Thranduil plans to stay, Mithfindl may yet have his chance to insinuate himself into the King’s good graces._

Again, Estel stood to look out over the crowd to find Legolas – just in time to see the Prince leaving the hall a step behind his inebriated father. 


	13. Chapter 13

His father had asked him to show him back to his rooms, for the King had endured enough attention and company for one night. Legolas nearly declined, but thinking that his father would rant at him for Estel’s challenging attitude earlier, the Prince had decided it best to get the eventual outburst over and done with. Although his father had said nothing to him yet, he expected that once they were alone he would hear how irate the Ranger had made the King.

Legolas walked a step before his father to open the door to the King’s chambers and allow Thranduil within the massive room. The oil lamps had been lit and a small fire had been started in the hearth to provide more light. With the doors to the balcony open, the sweet, fragrant summer air blew through the room to cool it. A fresh pitcher of water had been left by the washbasin on a table, with another pitcher of chilled drinking water perspiring on the mantel with several cups.

 _Some servant ran here once she saw us leaving, just to prepare the room for our arrival,_ the Prince thought with some amusement. All night, the Noldor had been especially careful in their feast, both the celebrators and the servants, so that none would have the shame of embarrassing Lord Elrond with their behavior. Eryn Galen feasts were always less formal, and the Elves of Rivendell had little to worry about in offending the King of the Great Forest, but still, they had been about their best manners and behavior. Walking into the bedchamber behind his father, Legolas added once seeing the same courtesy of the King’s bed, _I’ve never known any of Ada’s servants to turn down the blankets for him! The Noldor will spoil him._

“If we are hunting around the valley, not straying far from Elrond’s lands, then we will not need an entourage to go hunting in the woods, will we Legolas?” the King asked, breaking the long silence. Sitting upon the mattress and mussing the beautifully straightened sheets that some poor servant had likely worked on for half an hour, the King stretched his arms over his head and grunted loudly. “Ninan will insist upon joining us, and unless you can talk Kalin from coming, then he will join us as well. The four of us and Elrond’s twin sons will be enough.”

Deliberately, it seemed to Legolas, the King had not mentioned Estel at all. Instead of starting an argument with his father, the Prince smiled as he confided to the King, “Kalin will be happy to stay in the House, as I believe he has fallen for one of she-Elves here named Faelthîr.”

Showing true interest in what Legolas had just told him, the King asked while he leant down to untie his boots, “Faelthîr? Who is her father?”

_Leave it Ada to care more that my head sentry be courting the daughter of an important dignitary or merchant than for Kalin to be happy._

He clasped his hands behind his back to hide the nervous fidgeting of his fingers, while admitting, “I do not know her, but Estel has told me that she is a healer and trainer, dealing primarily with the horses and livestock. There will be no need to try to convince Kalin not to come – I doubt I could have convinced him to join us.”

His father laughed heartily, surprising Legolas, as he had almost expected his Ada to be upset that his son’s sentry was more interested in a she-Elf than he was with protecting his Prince.

“I remember feeling much the same, my son, when I was still courting your mother.” The King began pulling off his boots, tossing them aside. He wriggled his toes to stretch them, staring down at his feet as he talked. “At first, she would have nothing to do with me. I once gave her a bouquet of flowers to try to convince her to attend the spring festival with me and she threw them back at me, telling me that she would not accept them.”

Listening avidly to this, Legolas stepped closer to his father, not wanting the King to stop speaking. He knew of his mother only what he had seen for himself while growing up, things she had told him – he had never heard stories of her from his King. “Why would she not accept them?” he asked when Thranduil grew silent and still.

“Your mother was a true Wood-Elf, Legolas, unlike me. She became upset that I had killed the flowers to give them to her. She had rather that they had been carefully dug up and planted at her doorstep.” Lost in his thoughts, the King shook his head. He loosened the knots of hair holding the circlet upon his head with expert ease, having done it many times and no longer needing a mirror. “And so the next morning, when her mother woke her to begin their chores, they found their entire yard planted with wildflowers.”

His father snickered again and the Prince laughed quietly with him. He could see his Naneth saying such a thing in a fume of indignation. Legolas was also enjoying hearing Thranduil speak of the Queen – since her death, the King had not said much of her to the Prince. Legolas’ mother had not been wealthy or the daughter of anyone important. She had been beautiful, yes, but no more so than many other she-Elves in Eryn Galen. No, his Naneth had something about her that had brought out the good in Thranduil, making him see through the riches and power that Thranduil's father had taught him to want and seek – when she died, that perceptivity in Thranduil had died with her.

“She agreed to attend the festival with me, but only because her mother made her,” the King sighed in remembrance. He stood from the bed and began to remove his robes, until he was clad only in a thin shirt and his trousers. “If her mother had not, we would never have courted, and would never have found we were suitable.” Taking in a deep breath and giving the Prince a terse smile, he offered to change the topic, “But let us talk of other things. Come sit beside me.”

Legolas obeyed, sitting beside his father on the mattress as they had earlier that day, though he left much room between them and sat at the end of the bed. Even this far away, he felt dwarfed by his father. It was as the King had said – Thranduil was no Wood-Elf and had not the smaller stature of many of the Mirkwood Elves. Instead of a body made for climbing, leaping, and speeding agilely through the forest and the trees within, the King’s Sindarin body was better suited for heavy blades and physical force. Legolas had inherited some of both traits from his Sindarin father and Silvan mother, such that he was taller and broader than most of his Silvan brethren, but not as much as their King.

Settling himself against the headboard of the massive bed, Thranduil returned to his subject of before, saying, “We will have a good time on our hunting trip, my son. I cannot recall when last we hunted together.

They had never hunted together. It had not been the King who had taught his son how to use a bow, wield his knife, or how to choose his shots while hunting game. The Wood-Elf complied, not mentioning this thought, though, because he had no desire to upset his King, “The woods of Imladris and the surrounding area are rife with deer and rabbit. We should have no problem finding sport while we are out.”

This was not the topic about which his father wished to speak either, it seemed, for he merely nodded absently his agreement before facing the Prince directly. Thranduil gave an awkward smile of affection. “Elflings grow so quickly, Legolas. I cannot imagine how the humans withstand it. One year you were only as tall as my waist, sneaking my bow from the armory to try your hand at archery and vexing your mother by climbing every wall and tree, and the next you held a bow of your own, outmatching your teachers in skill entirely and able to fight amongst your peers as one of them.”

How strange his father spoke, reminiscing when normally he would be yelling. It was almost more frightening to the Prince for his King to be so kind and paternal, especially as he still thought that his Ada might devise some scheme to have his way and take Legolas back to Mirkwood, to take him away from Estel. No matter how much Legolas enjoyed sitting here, listening to stories of years past, the Prince still wondered at the ulterior motives behind his father’s every word. It physically hurt him to distrust his Ada, especially since he had promised Thranduil a chance at reconciliation.

“I would do whatever you wish, Legolas, to convince you to cease this farce with the human Ranger,” Thranduil said unexpectedly, as if reading the laegel’s thoughts. The younger Elf recoiled automatically, the urge to stand and move away almost too much for him. He managed to stay seated only because he feared showing his father how just a few words could incite such anxiety in his son. If there were a lecture or beating coming to the laegel, it would be now. The young Wood-Elf’s sudden tension must have made Thranduil think that his son sought to argue against his proclamation, for the King held up his hand to stifle him. “And since I know there is nothing that I can do, I will not fight you over it. Perhaps one day you will grow tired of this, and find a nice Elleth with whom to settle, as I did your mother.”

 _At least he says he won’t fight with me over it, even if he isn’t giving up hope that he’ll have his way,_ the Prince thought with a wry inner smile. The tension melted from him, and while the King had not given the Prince his blessing, he had refrained from giving him his curse.

“More important to me is that we do not let this come between us,” the King continued, ruffling the pillows behind him in discomfited restlessness. “This human is not worth it.”

It was a ridiculous thing for Thranduil to say. It was not that Legolas’ love for Aragorn had come between father and son; it was that there had never been a good relationship between father and son to begin. But again, Legolas did not argue. He had no wish to be the one starting the altercation, not if Thranduil had no intention of starting it himself.

Sharp knocking came from the sitting room, causing both father and son to startle.

“I wonder who that is,” the King murmured aloud, making no move to rise to see for himself.

Knowing that his father expected him to see to it, Legolas stood from the bed and walked from the bedroom without being told. Not bothering to ask who was there, he swung open the main door, fully expecting one of their protective sentries or his father's servant to be in the hallway waiting for entrance.

However, much to his surprise, Mithfindl stood outside the King’s door.

The strange good mood that his father’s oath had put him in was now dissolved and the Prince had half a mind to slam the door shut before the warrior had so much as spoken. However, given that Thranduil was not aware of Mithfindl’s assault on his son in the forest those months ago, and given that Legolas had no desire for the King to know, he could not be rude without later having to explain it to his etiquette-minded father.

“Prince Legolas,” the warrior said amiably. “I was looking for your King. Is he here?”

_I wish it had been Ninan or Kalin._

Looking over the warrior’s shoulder and into the hallway, Legolas regretted that Thranduil had commanded his sentries not to follow him about as they normally would, as they would have announced Mithfindl's presence without letting the Noldo get close enough even to knock on the door. Then he could have begged leave of Mithfindl without the King ever knowing the Noldo was seeking audience with him.

 _What lie can I tell him to make him leave?_ the laegel asked himself, not returning the greeting, but admitting, “He is here, yes. But he –“

Before he could finish his locution or find a suitable way to deter Mithfindl from seeing his father, the warrior was already pushing past Legolas, making his way into the sitting room. It was then that the Prince noted that Mithfindl held a bottle of wine in hand, the glass itself of an amber hue, and the liquid within shining iridescently in the light from the candelabra nearby.

– _is preparing for bed,_ he finished to himself, trailing the warrior farther into the room. _There will be no chance that Ada will make him leave, not if it means missing the chance to drink._ He shut the door to his father’s chambers with a loud bang, his frustration evident.

At hearing the voice, Thranduil had come to the doorway between his guest bedchambers and the sitting room, where he stood tall and proud, despite being clad in only his trousers and thin shirt, to see who it was that called on him. Unaware that the two had met before, the Prince introduced their visitor, saying, “My King, this is Mithfindl, son of Thialid.”

“I know him, Legolas,” the King stated, his interest growing once he saw who it was. “He rode with us into the valley.”

Gratuitously, Mithfindl bowed deeply, telling the King as he held out the bottle of wine, “I have brought you another gift.” Thranduil smiled welcomingly at the Noldorin warrior. Mithfindl apologized, sounding more regal and self-important than the Prince had ever heard him, “I'm sorry I could not bring more. We only keep a few bottles in my father's study here at the Last Homely House, while the rest are in my family's cellars at home. I have sent a servant to bring you a barrel, however.”

“It is a fine gift,” the King said, stepping forward to take the bottle of wine from Mithfindl’s outstretched hand. Ever ready to have another glass of wine, Thranduil suggested, “If this vintage is as fine as that which you shared with me already, then one bottle is all we need.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” the warrior replied. Looking about him, the Noldo spotted the tumblers on the mantel, and holding his hand back out to the King, offered, “Allow me to pour you a glass.”

Mithfindl had brought wine because he, like many others, knew that the King of Mirkwood enjoyed his spirits. Being as he was not aware of Glorfindel’s advice to Estel, Legolas had no reason to be suspicious of anything but that the Noldorin warrior was ingratiating himself to Thranduil, as the twins had warned days ago, but even without this knowledge, was still astute enough to realize, _Mithfindl has apparently already been plying my father with wine on the way to Imladris, hoping to gain favor_.

The already soused Thranduil was seating himself on the couch, his attitude one of familiarity with Mithfindl. “Let them celebrate downstairs. We will celebrate here,” he declared, accepting the ceramic cup that was handed to him. “Good wine is all one needs for merriment.”

 _No truer words has he ever spoken,_ the Prince deplored bitterly. That the Noldorin warrior had already spent time with his father, no doubt supplicating himself to the King in whatever way he could, aggravated the laegel, but he could see no harm from it. He truly had no desire to stay in the room, spending time with Mithfindl. But as he had only a few days before assured his lover and friends that the warrior had no hold over him, and as he did not wish for the Noldo to spend any more time alone with the King, Legolas resigned himself to it – he would need to be polite, at least as long as it took to get the Noldo to leave. Legolas also held no ill will for Lord Thialid and did not want his father to hold his Minyatar’s advisor accountable for his son’s actions; the only way to avoid such a scene would be to avoid the King ever knowing of Mithfindl’s trespasses. To Mithfindl, who was pouring himself a glass of the wine, he asked, “Pour me a glass, as well, if you would, please,” and sat by his father on the overstuffed couch.

For his part, Mithfindl appeared delighted at the request, although the laegel had the distinct impression that the warrior was wary of him, which made Legolas all the more eager to remain. Nevertheless, the Noldo nodded and brought to Legolas the cup he had only just poured for himself, and then went back for another glass.

He did not like this. Sitting, sharing wine with someone who had tried to assault him – it went beyond his ability to maintain his composure. He found himself fiddling, rubbing the rim of his ceramic tumbler of wine. _If father intends to get drunk with this louse here, then I might as well join them to pass the time,_ he joked darkly to himself. He truly did not fear the Noldorin warrior, nor feel ashamed of his temporary submission to the Noldo those months ago. It was as he had told the twins, Ranger, and his sentry days previous – Legolas felt there was nothing to fear from Mithfindl and he had certainly lived through worse than the Noldo’s disparagement. Mithfindl had only taken advantage of Legolas during a moment of weakness, an act that the Prince could not imagine happening again.

It took only one sip of the wine for the King to declare loudly, “Your father has a taste for spirits! This is just as fine as the previous.”

Sitting in the chair closest to Thranduil, Mithfindl took to explaining the origins of the liquor, where the grapes were grown, and how it had been aged. He spoke boastfully, as if he had been the one to do all this rather than the Elves on his father's vineyard. If Thranduil claimed that the wine was excellent, it must be – the King of Mirkwood was definitely a connoisseur. Legolas tuned out this conversation, though his inquisitiveness was peaked about his father’s claim and he stopped fiddling with his cup so that he could taste the wine himself.

It was likely one of the most delicious beverages he’d ever had the pleasure of imbibing. The stout aroma was nothing in comparison to its complex taste, and even the consistency as it passed over his tongue reminded him of the soft texture of the skin of a ripe peach. Unlike the diluted wine he was accustomed to drinking, this liquor was rich and the taste piquant with some flavor that the Prince could not place. He took another sip, and then another, enjoying himself despite being in Mithfindl’s company, and thinking, _Thialid could easily gain Ada’s favor with this wine, if Thialid has enough to pacify my father!_

Warm and tranquil, a pleasant feeling spread from the Elf’s body to his mind, clouding it before he had even noticed the change. Unabashedly, the Prince stared at the warrior sitting across from him, watching Mithfindl thoughtfully as the warrior chatted with the King. Of what they spoke did not concern the laegel, for it was the same inane pleasantries that everyone else in the valley had been telling the King all day. He nodded when he thought it appropriate, smiled when his father or Mithfindl made some joke, and tried to look serious when he knew that they spoke of something grim. For the most part, he paid attention only to the wine he held, sipping it slowly to prolong his enjoyment.

Occasionally, Mithfindl would look to Legolas, giving him a probing, expectant smile. That the warrior was friendly was bizarre to the Wood-Elf; that the Prince could not help but to smile back was even stranger. In the woods those months ago, Mithfindl had not been aware of Legolas’ grief, of his being attacked in the forest or in Lake-town prior to that. Any submission that Legolas made had likely been taken by Mithfindl as the Prince’s real desire. And so Legolas thought, _Perhaps he is desirous to let bygones be bygones. It serves no purpose for me to hold a grudge against him anyway._

“Let me pour you another glass,” Mithfindl offered, though whether this was made to Legolas or Thranduil, the Prince did not know at first, and was soon disappointed when the warrior filled the King’s cup and not his.

 _I have had enough, anyway,_ he told himself. _I cannot recall being this intoxicated, not since Elladan and Elrohir convinced me to steal a bottle of wine from Minyatar._ He sat aside his empty glass, but then as an afterthought, picked it back up from the table as if to drink from it again, only to notice that it was empty once more. _And even then, I was only an Elfling._

For a long while, Legolas only listened. He sat in a strange rapture as the Noldo spoke. The tone of the warrior’s voice was mesmerizing and he found himself disappointed when finally Mithfindl stopped speaking long enough to pour the King yet another cup of the alluring liquid. Mithfindl spoke of being trained into the guards of Imladris, and how he had been given the finest instruction on tactics, on oration, and that he hoped to find position in Elrond’s cabinet or someone of similar standing. It occurred to Legolas that Mithfindl was blatantly trying to earn the King’s service with this list of accomplishments, as was expected, but it suddenly did not bother the Prince at all. His father would never allow the Noldo into his confidence, not so soon after meeting him, and not without Mithfindl ever having lived in the Greenwood. It was ridiculous that Mithfindl would believe himself capable of plying Thranduil with enough wine to gain himself a position in the King’s council. Overall, it seemed desperate but harmless to Legolas, and so he didn’t interrupt. The banquet downstairs in the hall of fire was no quieter than it had been earlier. Music still played, Elves were still dancing and singing, and the palpable enjoyment of the Elves of Rivendell buoyed the Prince in soothing disassociation from the content of the conversation around him.

The King poured the dregs of the bottle into his cup, downing it before he had even placed the bottle back upon the table beside him. “This is the best wine I have had in many years,” Thranduil slurred, his fingers fumbling such that he knocked the bottle from the table.

Legolas hardly noticed the sound as it rolled off the table and onto the floor. He noticed, however, when his father almost fell from his seat when trying to pick up the emptied bottle where it had landed. The Prince sat upright hurriedly, placing his own drained tumbler upon the arm of couch so that he could use both hands to grab the King before Thranduil’s reeling upper body unbalanced him. With too much ease, the laegel was able to push his father back against the couch. The King’s mouth hung open, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was heavy.

He had passed out.

“I am sorry,” he apologized to Mithfindl automatically, ashamed of his father’s drunkenness. “He is not usually like this,” Legolas lied smoothly, more perplexed by the King’s behavior than troubled, given that his father would usually require much more wine than this to be so inebriated. _This wine must be very potent._ He gauged from the King's face whether his father was well, and seeing that Thranduil breathed easily and did not appear sick from his overindulgence, the laegel repeated to himself, _Yes, very potent._

Laughing quietly, the Noldo stood from his chair, telling the Prince, “It appears we have celebrated too much this night.”

“Ada.” He shook the King by his upper arms, asking, “Ada, are you well?”

Mithfindl came to stand beside where Legolas sat. He leant over the father and son on the couch, shaking his head as his strangely jubilant voice said, “I believe your King is still tired from his journey. Why do you not put him to bed?”

Readily, the Prince nodded and stood from the couch, gathering his sleeping father into his arms the best that he could. He wondered why his father did not wake whilst being moved. The King’s head lolled back upon his son’s arm and it was eerie to see his Ada in such a deep sleep. He laid Thranduil upon his mattress, grunting as his lethargic limbs were finally relieved of their burden. The King had not so much as opened an eye to see who moved him. _This is not mere drunkenness,_ the laegel decided, trying to bolster his concentration. Muddied like the water under the Bruinen's falls, the Wood-Elf's thinking was slow to come, but a slithering doubt wormed its way into his mind and he decided, _I need Faidnil. Or Ninan._

“Legolas?” came a voice beside him.

He turned to the voice, the room spinning slightly around him even after he had come to a stop. Instinctively, the dizzy Legolas stuck out his hand to stop himself from falling, only to find it now encased in another’s hand. 


	14. Chapter 14

“Come sit down,” Mithfindl offered, sounding unusually kind and concerned. “I’m afraid that you had too much to drink tonight, as well.” Legolas had only drunk the one glass of wine: before that, during dinner, he had only drunk water, as was his habit. The Wood-Elf knew this, but did not immediately realize why it was important. As he pulled the Prince along with him out of the bedchambers and back into the sitting room, the Noldo teased, “And here I’ve always been told that the Wood-Elves were the merriest of all Elves, that they could hold their wine better than a Dwarf holds his axe.”

The Elf Prince laughed lightly at this, for he had heard such often enough, and usually it was true. Pushed gently by Mithfindl into sitting on the couch where he’d been sitting before, Legolas sprawled out unintentionally, as his lassitude increased and his limbs did not obey him. As soon as he sat, he made to stand, propriety and the sudden remembrance of his father causing him to tell Mithfindl, “It is likely best that you leave. I need to find my father's servant.”

“Where are your father’s sentries?” the Noldo asked, offering congenially, “I would tell one of them to find his servant but they have not followed him to his rooms.”

“It is safe here in the valley, and so the King commanded them not to trail his every movement,” the Prince told the Noldo. Straightaway he felt contrite at sharing such information, as if his statement about the safety of the valley was suddenly in question.

The Noldo stood over him, staring at him intently. Mithfindl pulled from his pocket a phial carved from the horn of some beast. Removing the cork stopper, the warrior poured the thick liquid within the phial into the empty cup Legolas had left on the couch arm. The Wood-Elf watched this, wondering what the Noldo was doing. “I will leave shortly, Legolas,” the Noldo offered. “But not yet, Prince. You need more to drink,” Mithfindl reasoned with a laugh, handing his cup to the Silvan, who took it politely but made again to stand. “Drink it,” the warrior said again, this time more forcefully.

For a moment, the laegel considered drinking from the cup. The wine he had imbibed had made the Elf feel so fine that he was having difficulties reeling in his wandering thoughts and his body had relaxed to the point that he might have fallen into sleep. However, bringing the cup closer to his nose, the smell of the liquid in the cup abruptly became familiar to him, now that it was undiluted with wine, and the laegel realized that he had felt this way once before, when injured from Orc sword and given the tincture made from poppies that caused a similar euphoria even as it dulled pain. _We are drugged,_ the laegel understood with a sobering streak of dread, looking up to see that the Noldo who stood over him had forsaken his pretense of friendliness. When the Prince tried again to rise, Mithfindl was there, his hands on Legolas' shoulders. With ease, he kept the intoxicated Wood-Elf from standing.

Taking the cup from the laegel's hand, Mithfindl pried at the Wood-Elf's lips, although now alarmed and growing increasingly more so, Legolas pulled his face away. He shifted out of Mithfindl's grasp and tried to slip past him in rising from the couch. A sudden pain in his side burst through the laegel’s inebriety just as another vicious blow hit his chest, doubling him over and driving the air from his lungs. Before he had even managed a breath, the crown atop his head was violently ripped off, taking with it several thick strands of the hair that had been tied to hold it down. He heard it hiss as it slid across the stone floor, but his inebriation – facilitated by the lack of air – seemed to separate each of these events, and he did not realize at first that he was being accosted. With his hold again on the Wood-Elf's shoulders, Mithfindl forced the laegel into laying back, his head upon the couch's arm. One of the Prince's arms was trapped behind him, held underneath his own body. To keep his prey from escaping again, the Noldo knelt upon the Prince, his knees digging into Legolas' stomach where he laid on the couch and his weight keeping Legolas from freeing his arm.

As the Silvan tried to push away the offensive Noldo with his unhindered arm, Mithfindl captured the Wood-Elf's wrist in one hand to twist it until it was trapped under the Noldo’s knee upon the laegel’s belly, while with the fingertips of his other he pressed into the muscles where the Prince's lower jaw met his upper until Legolas’ lips were forced apart. The Noldo took the cup again in hand to dispense the dark, syrupy, foul liquid into the laegel’s mouth.

“I was saving this for the morrow, for your drunk of a father,” the warrior told him, tossing the emptied cup into the fireplace with a crash of the ceramic container amidst the burning logs. “But I never thought to have you within my grasp, sweet Princeling. At least, not so soon.” Grinning malevolently down at the laegel, Mithfindl added, “And now, I have you both under my thumb.”

When the Wood-Elf tried to spit out of the thick medicine pooled within his mouth, Mithfindl held his hand over Legolas' lips. _I cannot swallow this,_ he understood, knowing that he might be just as insentient as his father was if he did. He wasn't sure what Mithfindl intended, but being unconscious in the Noldo's presence was dire enough without his father also being at Mithfindl's mercy. He bucked against Mithfindl, trying to remove his attacker, but the Noldo merely shifted himself to hold down the Prince's thrashing legs by digging his knees into the laegel's thighs – the consequent discomfort from his uninjured thigh was immense, but the agony from his still healing thigh caused Legolas to cease at once, an unwilling yelp escaping him that was stifled by Mithfindl's hand over his mouth. Still he would not swallow, and so with his other hand, Mithfindl grabbed the Wood-Elf's throat, cutting off what air Legolas had managed to breathe in through his nose. Now that his unhindered arm was again free he grabbed at the Noldo to push him away, but again Mithfindl ground his knee into the ruined muscles of the Wood-Elf's thigh and instinctively the pained laegel gasped in air, and thereby both swallowed and inhaled the liquid he'd been trying so hard to expel.

 _I have to get help,_ he advised himself, already feeling the effects of the tincture upon his body. The pain the Noldo had caused was distant, his thinking clouding over even more. With his fingers, he tried to pry Mithfindl’s hand from his neck, his cumbrous attempts unsuccessful. He opened his mouth to holler, to call for anyone, for surely, someone might hear his shouts even with the boisterous revelry occurring throughout the house, but Mithfindl tightened his hold of the Prince's throat until the laegel was writhing against the Elf above him in his efforts to unseat the Noldo and thus remove the hand that kept him from air. It wasn't until his waning consciousness was almost fled, his vision grown ashy, and his frantic writhing lessening in tandem with his awareness that the Noldo’s hand was removed from his throat. And then, the full effects of the drug hit the Wood-Elf, for the heady rush of filling his lungs with much desired air nearly caused him to pass out. His body now lax and his mind thinking only of breathing, the Wood-Elf forgot all but the euphoric pleasure of the poppy milk.

“I cannot stand to see you so joyful,” he heard from above him. Hands mauled his chest and belly, molesting his person roughly and thoroughly, the Noldo’s strong digits kneading and grabbing, before one hand found its way between his legs, where it cupped him through the cloth of his leggings, closing its grip upon his shaft and the sacs underneath in a punitive, cruel cincture. A mouth crushed against his own, the Noldo’s lingua delving into his orifice followed by teeth closing over his tongue so hard that they almost broke the skin, while the other hand of his assailant grabbed the Prince by the throat again. In coarse, vise-like tugs, Mithfindl pulled and clutched Legolas’ unwilling and entirely unaroused flesh.

“We will finish what we started in the woods,” Mithfindl promised in a whisper, spittle hitting the laegel’s cheek as the Noldo spoke. “Your being here with your father tonight was a blessing. I had thought I would have to wait for you, but you are nearly as foolish as your father is. Now I can obtain all that I want from both of you.”

Then there was nothing. No voice: no hands. He opened his eyes to find that Mithfindl stood over him, his hair disheveled and his breathing hard. For a moment, he only stared down at the laegel, who in the exquisite but distant pain of his injuries did not try to move. Vacant and laggard, the Prince’s thoughts held to the idea of escape, but his torpid and dazed body could not follow suit. Finally, Mithfindl wiped at his brow and looked to the doorway, as if expecting that someone might enter at any moment. Mithfindl grabbed the laegel by the hair at the back of his head, yanking it to incite the Prince into sitting properly upon the couch once again. Breathless and his anger satiated, the Noldo sat beside the Silvan, giving as little thought to the soundly sleeping King in the room next door as did Legolas, for Thranduil had not even stirred. The Noldo began to caress the Prince’s face, trying to soothe the laegel with this gentle touch that was even more aberrant than his previous attack. The Wood-Elf fumbled to move away from the undesired contact, but so intoxicated was he from the excessive dose of the poppy’s milk that his attempts at removing himself from the Noldo’s hold were feeble and fruitless.

There was no pain – not from his thigh, not from the beating he had just received, and not from his wounded faer. He felt no anxiety from his father’s presence in the valley, no fear for what his King wanted while there, and the grief from his tribulations faded just as easily as his inhibition. Moreover, he felt no shame for having lain vulnerable on the couch while Mithfindl taunted and abused him. It was not that he felt nothing, not as he had when battling his grief and scar – no, the laegel felt sickly glorious. The warrior’s strange brew had seen to that. So splendid did he feel that nothing else seemed to filter through to his attention. It was an unwilling feeling, however, and even as he could not help to enjoy it, the laegel fought against it, wanting awareness more than he wanted this euphory.

“A gift for you,” Mithfindl whispered, drawing open Legolas' eyes with his words, which the Prince was aware were closed. Upon the Noldo's palm laid some object. Impossibly thin and flat, the oval of iridescent stone was no bigger than the end of his fingernail and small enough to have been a bead on a necklace. At each end of the oblong oval a hole had been bored, much like a bead, as well. “A matching present,” Mithfindl told the quiescent laegel, continuing after a snigger of glee, “Your father has one just like it.”

Reaching behind the Prince's head, the Noldo placed a hand at the nape of Legolas' neck, drawing him into bending over at the waist until he nearly had his head against his own knees. Although it stifled his breathing to be so bent, Legolas sat quietly, the poppy’s milk he'd been forced to imbibe compelled him into enraptured, befuddled acceptance of Mithfindl's actions. Whatever belligerence he had felt before the tincture had taken hold was now lost, and Legolas felt the hair at the back of his head being pulled this way and that, the strands being drawn through the holes of the stone and then tied, although he could not see it nor did he seem to care. However, he felt the stone as it lay flush and tight against the flesh of his scalp, ensconced so close and flat to his head that it would not be visible, while the thickness of his hair hid the small knot used to place it there.

“For you,” the Noldorin warrior repeated, leaning close into the Prince's bent body and giving a low moan as he felt for himself the lithe back of the Elf he hoped soon to claim. “You will be mine, not the human’s. He took everything from me, so I will return the favor – starting with you.” His fingers harsh against the stone ornament now ensconced within the Wood-Elf's hair, Mithfindl told him, “Now listen to me, Legolas. You will forget this present I have given you and you will let no one pester it. Do you understand?”

Even with the toxin he'd been tricked into drinking, the abuse to his person that Mithfindl had caused, and the strange circumstances of tonight, the laegel would never have woken on the morrow to find himself amenable as he was now in accepting any of Mithfindl's demands – and yet, like it had a will of its own, the stone spoke for him. Indeed, the stone now carried these orders from Mithfindl even as it subverted the Wood-Elf’s will, and Legolas agreed readily, “Yes.”

Again, the Noldo moaned low, this time in concupiscent delight at having the enthralled Wood-Elf at his mercy. He ran a hand up the Prince's back, from the swell of Legolas' rear to the nape of his neck, where he again used this hold to sit the laegel back up. “We will finish what we started. I promise this,” he cautioned, as if the now subjugated Wood-Elf could possibly be warned away, as the trinket positioned upon his person would make certain that he did exactly as Mithfindl asked.

Clapping and shouting, loud and interruptive to the Noldo’s mood, signaled that the banquet downstairs was formally ending, that the musicians were tired, the food gone, and the Elves there were cheering their good fortune and guests. It had only been a couple of hours since Thranduil had left the hall of fire with Legolas, and though his absence had been noted, it had not dampened the celebration.

Mithfindl stopped in his detestable petting to place his fingers again on the stone where it laid within the Silvan's hair, and changing his voice to the same calm, mesmeric tone as earlier, he spoke more to himself than to Legolas, saying, “I gave your foolish father more of the poppy milk than I should have.” Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, where the bone was oddly bent from where Estel had broken it only months ago, the warrior thought ponderously of his quandary. He kept one hand ever on the thin stone, pushing it harshly against the laegel's scalp, as he finally came to a decision, telling the Prince what Legolas would come to believe on the morrow, “Your father has succumbed to sorrow, hasn’t he, Legolas?”

With his gaze dumbly upon Mithfindl, Legolas nodded his head that he understood, although he truly comprehended none of what the warrior meant. The stone periapt upon him would see that he remembered, though. Despite the cloying inebriation, the laegel could not help but notice how aggravated and harried Mithfindl was. Whatever was occurring, Legolas decided, _This is the crux of his dilemma._ The moment after this consideration, the Silvan could not recollect why he had thought it. He could not question anything that the Noldo told him – not under the influence of the strange charm tied to him.

“I had not known you would be here,” the warrior continued. “But it is just as well. You have provided me with a better opportunity, Prince,” Mithfindl nearly purred, pressing his face into the side of the Silvan’s face. His voice once more returning to its soothing, enthralling lilt, Mithfindl told his captive audience, “But you will not remember this, Legolas. You will not remember my being here tonight, will you?”

He wasn’t sure. Something was not right. A niggling idea was rattling inside his head, keeping him from agreeing – that is, until Mithfindl added a new logic and lie that distracted him from the previous one.

“You were here by yourself, with your father.” Mithfindl smiled widely, his eagerness to imbue his falsehoods onto the Wood-Elf causing his normally hatefully crafted features to fashion into a moderately striking expression. “It’s the human, isn’t it, Princeling? I know all about how much your father despises that disgusting Ranger, how you promised never to see Estel again, but then ran to Imladris, breaking the oath to your father to rut a mortal. Your sentry Kalin was wont to talk after sharing Faelthîr’s bed last night, and she has told me all the details of your whoring yourself to the humans.” Laughing quietly, which caused Legolas to shudder instinctively at so cruel a sound, Mithfindl nuzzled his forehead against the side of the dormant laegel’s face, telling him, “Your father may not awaken for a few days. His sorrow over your betrayal, over your choosing a human over him, the shame he feels to have you, the Adan’s whore, as his son – his grief is causing his light to fade.”

Not once did the laegel question what he was being told. These suggestions were planted within his fallowed mind, watered by the toxin he’d been given, as obdurate in their making as the stone against his scalp, and these suggestions would thrive and sprout without his awareness. A familiar, lancing pain shot through his chest as his own belabored faer recalled its grief. _Ada is suffering?_ he asked himself. _He suffers because I have betrayed him._

“It is the Ranger’s fault, isn’t it, Legolas? But it mustn’t be so for longer, else your King will never awaken from his grief.”

The Wood-Elf nodded, sure of the veracity of this supposition. However, a ticklish sensation on his scalp stole his wavering attention, and he wondered, _What is this?_ The Elf was surprised to find that a bead of blood was running through his thick hair.

His lack of attention upset Mithfindl. Grabbing the Wood-Elf by his throat again with the hand not on the stone, Mithfindl turned Legolas to face him, ostensibly irate, though his voice remained entrancing. “Remember, Legolas,” the warrior told the impressionable laegel. “I was not here. They will come wake you in the morning when your father is found to be comatose from his grief.”

The Prince murmured an agreement without thinking, though it was hard with Mithfindl’s hand still around his throat. Finally, the warrior nodded to himself, released the laegel, grabbed the emptied wine bottle, and then stood.

“I was never here,” he said again, turning to the door to the guest chambers, as the sound of laughter grew close. At once, the warrior looked about him, and not seeing anything that might incriminate him, he hurried to the portal that led to the hall outside. For a few moments, he merely stood there, his forehead pressed against the wood, until the laughter passed by with none stopping outside.

Audibly, Mithfindl sighed his relief. The Noldo was suddenly beside him again, his fingers unerringly finding the stone ensconced within the laegel's hair. He demanded, “Legolas. Under the stairs on the third floor of the south wing, near the back entrance to the library, by the garden – there is a door under those stairs. Do you know it?”

The Wood-Elf nodded. He knew the Last Homely House as well as his known, and though he couldn’t claim to have been in every room, he knew where all the doors that opened upon the public halls lay. He had spent too many of his Elfling years playing hide and seek with the twins not to know the Last Homely House as intimately as his own home.

“Tomorrow, after the sun has set, you will find that room. Do not be detected. Let none know where you are going.” His hand pawing briefly at the Prince's rear, Mithfindl grumbled in aggravation. “By then I will have had the time to compensate for this change in plan… After the sun has set,” the warrior repeated ramblingly, as if speaking the time would draw it nearer and his frustration ended with the laegel once more in his presence. “Wait a few minutes after I have left, and then go to your own chambers, Legolas.”

Abruptly, the warrior sped across the room. Legolas watched a moment as the Noldo cracked the door open, peering out into the hallway before darting outside, the portal clicking softly shut behind him.

Now he was alone. He sat upon the couch, the most severe effects of the poppy’s milk slowly wearing off, but the charm upon his person not slackening in the least. _I must go to bed,_ he thought, his mind supplying this idea as if it were new to him. Absently, the Woodland Elf rubbed his chest, where the empty and incriminating ache of his renewed sorrow was confusing him. He asked himself, _Were Ada and I arguing?_ The Prince rose unsteadily from his seat. As the numbing poppy tincture began to wane, the newfound injuries to his body – the rasping soreness of his tormented throat, the bruises upon his torso, and the steady throbbing of the maltreated muscle of his healing thigh – became more apparent, and their presence only added to Legolas’ confirmation that his King had been displeased with him yet again. He shambled the short distance to his Ada’s bedchamber, having already forgotten Mithfindl’s earlier presence but not his instructions. Upon the coverlet laid his King, his broad chest barely moving from each shallow inhale. Seeing his father was resting peacefully, the Prince was reminded that he needed to do the same.

When the door shut behind him, he stumbled a few steps, not remembering at first where he was and why he was there. It took only his noticing a tapestry of Gondolin that he had seen many times to make him remember that he was in the Last Homely House, and reflexively, he moved towards his rooms, as he had been instructed.

“Legolas!”

Pausing, the Elf meant to turn round to greet whoever had called to him but Mithfindl’s suggestion that he find his own bed for the night reverberated within his head, and he continued walking.

“Legolas?” the sentry asked, running to catch up to the laegel to take hold of the Prince’s arm gently, as if holding him upright, or perhaps as if holding him there.

“All is well,” he replied mechanically, without being asked of how he was, and not even looking the sentry in the eyes. “Ada is resting.”

Bewildered, Ninan stared at his Prince, before shaking his head. Perhaps it was the heavy scent of wine upon his breath or his uneven gait that caused Ninan to conclude with a grin, “You have been drinking, Legolas!” Ninan let go of the young Elf’s arm, laughing as he looked back to the closed door of the King’s chambers. “It is no wonder you are acting so queerly, if you tried to keep up with your father’s cups. Is the King asleep?”

He nodded and turned to walk away, only to find his way barred again by Ninan’s renewed hold of his arm. “Do you want me to help you to your room?” the sentry asked, his amusement missing from his question, now that his unease was rising again at the Prince’s odd conduct. “You are unsteady on your feet, my Prince. Should I fetch Estel or the Noldor?”

However, Legolas found himself saying, “I am fine. Estel is no doubt waiting in my room for me. Ada is sleeping. Go enjoy yourself.”

Ninan nodded although Legolas did not see it – he was already walking away, lumbering the short distance to the hall adjacent to this one, where the rooms of Elrond’s family were located. Before the door to his own room, the laegel stopped, breathing soundlessly, though deeply, to stare at the closed portal. He heard the sound of someone moving and smelled the distinct odor of pipe-weed emanating from inside his bedchamber.

 _Estel is waiting for me, as I asked him to._ The confusion had not left him, although his elation was fast withering. The twinge of his thigh coupled with the heartache he felt reminded him that he had been the whipping boy for his father’s disgruntlement again. The details of their argument eluded him, however. Legolas pushed aside these thoughts – they would return to him in the morning when explanation would be needed for the King’s state. 


	15. Chapter 15

Pulling hard on his pipe, the Ranger inhaled the pungent pipe-weed and held it in his lungs for a moment ere he let it fly from his mouth in a grey cloud that amassed with the hovering smoke that already filled the room. Of all things, the Prince would not appreciate the Adan having smoked in his bedroom because the Elf’s sensitive nose would be able to smell it for weeks. Usually the human sat outside in the courtyard, in his own room, or at least on the balcony attached to the laegel’s chambers; however, at the moment, Estel didn’t care a whit if his Greenleaf was upset at him, just as long as the Prince was well. Besides, he needed something to occupy him while waiting.

Estel was livid. If he were being honest with himself, or took a moment to think about why he was prepared to shout at the Wood-Elf, Estel would have realized how possessive and jealous he was being. Yet, the human did not think about why he was so angry. He only knew that he had been worried about why the Prince had been gone for so long. He only knew that he had been left to sit here distressed and restless and waiting for Legolas to return bruised, bloody, grieving, or all of these things. He had made a promise to Legolas – he had sworn that he would not interfere with the Prince and King of Mirkwood. For this reason only, the Ranger had not stalked the Prince and his father to the guest room where he knew the two to be. It had taken much for him to wait in Legolas’ bedchamber when he had seen for himself how much the King had been drinking, when he believed it possible that Thranduil was angered with Legolas, despite what the laegel had said about his Ada coming to the valley only to see him.

On the couch close to the small fireplace, which like all the lamps and candles was unlit and therefore offering no illumination in the dark room, Estel tapped his pipe against the sole of his boot, knocking free the plug of ash that was left of his pipe-weed. He desired to pack the bowl again, to keep smoking just to continue some activity in distraction of his true desire to run rampant to Thranduil’s guest rooms and find out for himself his lover’s well-being. Yet, the Adan stood, placed his spent pipe on the mantel, and began pacing before the hearth. He could not stop pondering about what Glorfindel had warned of Mithfindl, nor could he stop accusing himself of stupidity when his thoughts turned to how he had ruined his and Legolas’ time in the forest by inviting Thranduil. Asking the King to join them on their hunting trip might have been a bad idea for all involved, for knowing Thranduil as he did, Aragorn believed that the King had instantly perceived the challenge behind the invitation, and though the Adan knew that Thranduil did not partake of hunting and roaming the wilds as did the Ranger and Prince, the King had agreed just to win the battle of wits. Estel had been thoroughly outmaneuvered, that much was sure.

 _If Thranduil is irritated with Greenleaf, then it is my fault,_ Aragorn ruminated, his ire not dying down as he realized this. He stopped before the empty fireplace. His circuit from one end of the hearth to the other was only increasing his agitation, so he took to pacing the distance from the open doors of the veranda and to the closed door to the room. _I am the one who probably angered the King tonight. If Legolas suffers his father’s wrath because I could not keep my mouth closed…_ he began but did not finish. The nearly imperceptible squeak of the knob as it began to turn ended his thoughts and his pacing, and the Adan swiftly moved to the doorway, yanking the knob to swing the portal open and out of the laegel’s hand. Surprised, Legolas smiled at the Ranger, though his amusement soon faded to a confused frown when he saw how frantic the human appeared.

 _He is smiling, so he must not be injured,_ the bitter Ranger inveighed with hostility towards his lover over which he then felt immediate contrition. The human sighed to see that Legolas was unaffected by the Ranger’s annoyance. _I am being a fool again,_ he told himself as he tried to temper his anger.

“Where have you been?” he asked without prelude, without even bothering to greet the Wood-Elf properly, although he did try to calm himself so that he would not begin an argument with the Elf. The last thing that he needed right now was for Legolas to become angry with him – he couldn’t very well ensure the laegel’s health if he drove the Prince from the room.

Estel shut the door and then paced to the fireplace, where upon the mantel there was a lamp that he intended to light forthwith, to brighten the room so that he could better see the Prince. Right now, it was too dark to see much but the Wood-Elf’s face, which was unbruised, at least. He searched for the striker to light the lamp, and unable to find it immediately, decided that moonlight would have to be enough, even if he had to drag the Elf outside upon the balcony to ensure that he was unhurt. Legolas was already pulling down the thin blankets on the bed, as if preparing to slide underneath them. The Prince had pulled off his tunic and boots, leaving his trousers and undershirt on.

When the laegel had not answered, the human tried again, asking, “Have you been with your father this whole time? You could have told me that you were leaving the banquet with him. Had I not seen you leave, I would be searching the valley for you even now.”

“I was not aware that I needed your permission,” the laegel replied softly, serenely, and the Ranger expected the Wood-Elf’s irascibility; however, the Elf appeared anything but annoyed. Indeed, Legolas was sitting on the down-turned bed as if he intended to go to sleep. The Ranger watched as Legolas reached behind him to arrange the pillows how he liked them and then stretched out on the mattress. It was odd that the Prince was covering himself in the sheets on his bed, ready to sleep when he still had not removed his shirt or trousers, or even the braids from his hair. The Silvan wriggled a bit until he was situated comfortably and ere he closed his eyes.

Breathing in a deep breath to compose himself, the human held his hands out in conciliation, telling the laegel, “I do not mean to treat you as an Elfling, Legolas, but I was worried.”

Aragorn noted the laegel’s blithe attitude and indifference to the human’s obstinate fretting, a thing that normally might have garnered some response from the Prince. Somehow, it irked the Adan even more to know that while he was sitting in the laegel’s rooms, fretting over what might be happening in the King’s chambers, Legolas had been just fine, or so it seemed. Moreover, it was clear that the laegel was neither injured nor upset.

“Legolas,” he barked, unable to contain his irritation any longer when the laegel did not even acknowledge him. _He is not going to sleep without telling me what has happened,_ the Ranger vowed, watching the Prince in expectance of an answer. “Will you not speak to me? Please, Greenleaf.”

The Ranger came to stand by the bed where Legolas lay and then sat beside where the Elf’s hip rested on the stuffed mattress. Finally, the Prince opened his cerulean eyes again. “I am tired, Estel, and I have had too much to drink, I believe.”

Shaking his head in negation of so silly an explanation, the Ranger suspiciously asked, “Too much to drink? You rarely drink anything stronger than tea or water.” He placed his hand upon the laegel’s forearm, where he picked the Elf’s arm up from the bed to lay across his lap. Twining his fingers with Legolas’ digits, the human surreptitiously looked at the exposed skin of the laegel’s limb where the sleeve of his undershirt had slid upwards as he moved it. Smooth, muscular, and the color of cream, Legolas’ flesh was unmarred. Had the human chosen the Elf’s other arm, he would have seen the quickly forming bruises from where Mithfindl had forcefully held the Prince’s limb during his attack on the Silvan.

“Father and I shared some wine,” the laegel told him, his brow drawing together in tangled concentration. “It must have been potent.”

Eager to know whether Thranduil had spoken of their upcoming hunting excursion, the human asked while gently stroking the Wood-Elf’s flesh, “And what did he say, Greenleaf? He hasn’t changed his mind about going with us to the wilds, has he?”

Again, Legolas appeared to think hard about the question put to him. He settled more comfortably in the bed and squeezed the Ranger’s hand to reassure him, saying, “I am not sure. I cannot remember.”

“You do not remember?” Once more, the human disbelievingly asked, “Legolas, you have spent the last few hours alone with your father, drinking, and you cannot recall what he told you? He was not angry?”

Already the Wood-Elf had closed his eyes and his breathing was growing softer as he slid into reverie. “I don’t think we argued at all. I think we only spoke of going hunting.” 

The Adan noticed the difficultly with which the laegel seemed to piece together his explanation, for the Wood-Elf seemed to strive futilely in recalling what he and his father had spoken of, which in itself was odd, but since the Prince had claimed to have been drinking wine with his King, the human only determined, _Perhaps he is right and he has had too much to drink._ The explanation did not sit well with him, but seeing that the Elf was well and desired merely to sleep, Aragorn reluctantly decided to let the matter rest along with his lover – at least until the morning.

“Do you not want me to massage your thigh, Legolas? Does it not ache tonight?” he asked a bit hopefully in an attempt at a different tact to ascertain what had occurred without his presence. It would be a welcome sight in seeing the Elf’s body, to assure himself that the Prince was undamaged.

“Not at all,” the sleepy Elf murmured, sounding as if he were already dreaming behind his closed eyelids. “My thigh does not hurt.”

“I have made your tea for you already, although now it is cold. It would still help for you to drink it, Greenleaf,” he tried to persuade.

“I need to sleep,” the Wood-Elf whispered, speaking more to himself than to Estel. Legolas rolled onto his side as he relaxed into slumber.

The human sat there for several long minutes, the room too dark to ascertain much of the laegel except that in his deepening slumber, Legolas looked peaceful and at ease. _He is acting strangely tonight. Perhaps the scar speaks to him. Thranduil has surely upset him_ _._ He could find no other justification for this behavior.

Unlike the Elf, Estel stripped himself almost completely nude before climbing into the bed beside Legolas. As warm as it already was in the room, Estel still laid himself as close as possible to his lover so that he could touch the Prince should he be in the thrall of the scar. Legolas gave no reaction to this except another contented exhale, and nestled closer to Aragorn under the thin sheets.

“I was rather hoping to finish my apologies,” the Adan whispered resignedly into the Elf’s ear, feeling the fool for having been so vexed when the Prince appeared fine. “But perhaps tomorrow morning?”

There was no reply from the Wood-Elf.

He felt it all to be very outlandish. Legolas was abrupt, yes, but he did not appear harmed or under the influence of his grief. In fact, the Elf seemed just as he claimed – exhausted and intoxicated. Estel was weary, as well. Today had been stressful for many reasons, and the banquet that night had not relieved any of his tension. Settling himself in for sleep, he relinquished the last of his concern and annoyance. He soon fell asleep, the Elf tight beside him, and his last waking thoughts of how best he might avoid a King, a sentry, and the twins to find time alone with Legolas while out in the woods.

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The sound of coughing woke the Elf and he turned away from the noise to try to continue his slumber. He was abnormally somnolent, but being asleep, he was not aware of this nor how late in the morning that it had grown. Before becoming the Ranger’s lover and sharing his bed, and long before his recent tribulations, the Elf was like most of his kin and either would go days without sleeping at all or would sleep for only short periods of time. During his time of grieving and injury, the Wood-Elf’s healing rhaw and faer had needed and desired more slumber than he had ever before needed. Now, since he shared Estel’s bed, he had also adopted the human’s routine of sleeping the night through, but like the Ranger, the Silvan usually arose at Anor’s first light.

Another of the human’s coughing fits roused him entirely; he opened his eyes to find the room bright with the morning sun and the Adan lying next to him hacking. His first thought was that the sun had long risen and his second was of the aroma that assaulted him upon his waking. _It smells of pipe-weed in here,_ the Prince thought and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He normally did not mind the human’s smoking, but to have his bedchambers reek of the foul weed – that was a most unpleasant thing to wake to in the morning.

“If you would not smoke so much,” he reproached, his voice cracking with an inexplicable soreness in his throat that made him feel as if he had been the one who had smoked too much, “then you would not wake yourself coughing in the morning.”

“I wondered how long it would take you to complain about the smell.” His cough now a snide snort of amusement, the human beside him rolled over to face the Silvan Elf, who threw his arm over his face to keep out the perky light of Anor streaming in through the open balcony doors. It seemed bizarrely bright in the room this morn.

Feigning an affected crossness that he knew would make the human laugh, the Prince complained, “I am accustomed to most of your smells, Ranger, but pipe-weed is by far the foulest.”

Laughing again, the sleepy human poked the Elf in his side and began to throw his own retort the smiling laegel’s way. The Prince’s surprised gasp of pain and quick move to sit up and away from another mischievous jostle made the Ranger hurry to sit as well. The human was as quick to move as the Elf and was soon crawling across the bed to kneel upon the mattress close to where Legolas sat.

“What is it?” the Ranger asked, but did not wait for an answer before he had Legolas’ arm, raising it away from where it was cradling the Elf’s aching side.

Confused, Legolas allowed Estel to lift his arm, though it pained him to have the muscles along his ribs stretched, and replied, “I do not know.”

The human lifted the undershirt covering the Elf’s torso to see that a vivid bruise had darkened the alabaster skin, running from mid-belly upwards towards the Prince’s underarm. Aragorn let loose the laegel’s arm and looked to the laegel’s face, intending to see whether the Elf was being elusive in his response of not knowing what had pained him. Instead of answers, the Ranger only received more to question, for around the Prince’s throat were the faint prints of a hand from where the Wood-Elf had been choked.

“And what is this?” the human asked, growing evermore irate as he tilted the Silvan’s head back to see more clearly the damage done to Legolas’ neck. When the Prince raised his hand to feel for himself the tenderness of his throat, the Ranger then noted that even more contusions were to be found on Legolas’ wrist, the flesh there as dark and swollen as his side and throat and looking very much like a hand had been wrapped around the Elf’s limb, as well. Catching the laegel’s arm, the Adan pulled it to him, lifting the sleeve of Legolas’ undershirt to see better the bruises there, too. “Eru’s ass, Greenleaf.”

In confusion, the Prince looked at his wrist along with the human, and having no sure knowledge of how he had obtained these marks, could only say to Estel, “I have no idea how these came to be.”

“Your father has done this,” the human accused at once, letting loose both his hold on the Prince’s arm and his shirt. Standing from the bed to grab his clothes from the day previous that lay on the nearby couch, the Adan shoved his arms through his tunic hurriedly. “Why did you not tell me last night, Legolas? Why did you tell me that you were well? Your ribs could have been broken. Your throat is bruised as if he tried to choke you to death. It could have swelled and kept you from breathing.”

“There is nothing to tell.” He watched the human dress in a dash as if he had somewhere else to be, and as the Elf could imagine that the somewhere else the human wished to be would be in the King’s rooms, likely with his own hands around Thranduil’s throat, he tried to diffuse the Ranger’s anger, joking, “Perhaps you rolled over in your sleep, and struck my side with your elbow.”

For a split moment, Estel ceased his dressing and appeared properly horrified at this suggestion, but then continued his rush job of putting on his boots. “And you did not wake for it? I doubt this, Greenleaf. Did I also choke you in our sleep? Or grab your arm hard enough to cause it to bruise?”

The Wood-Elf, thinking that he may physically have to keep the human from running to Thranduil’s room with murder on his mind, thought to put on his own boots. Twisting his chest to retrieve them from where they sat next to the bed caused him to gasp in pain again as his mistreated chest protested the movement. Immediately, the human was then kneeling in front of him. None too carefully and without being asked, the ever-protective Ranger took over the task of slipping the Elf’s feet within his boots, and secured them with harsh jerks.

Legolas allowed the human to do this and took to inspecting the dark contusion on his wrist. _Where could this have come from?_ he wondered. Indeed, the bruise appeared very much like a handprint, but whose it was, the laegel could not guess. He could think of no viable reason for this injury or the others, but offered, “Then perhaps we did it yesterday while on the practice fields.”

His hair mussed, wild, and glowing darkly in the morning light, the human stood before him, arms crossed over his wide and thick chest, to insist, “Show me. You were not bruised while bathing right before the feast, so it happened after our bath. Disrobe, Greenleaf, and let me see what he has done to you.”

Such a command did not sit well with the Prince, who detested being ordered about as much as he disliked the idea of undressing for the sole purpose of being inspected like cattle at the market. He did not intend to strip. He stood, moving away from the human to fetch a clean tunic from the trunk at the end of his bed. _The last thing that I need is for the twins or Minyatar to see these bruises,_ the Elf thought, digging through the clothing neatly folded in the chest. _Although I doubt Estel will refrain from telling them the first chance that he gets._ Choosing a tunic with a high collar that hopefully would hide the bruises at his neck, the Wood-Elf slid it over his undershirt, clearly not acquiescing to the human’s demand.

“Greenleaf,” the human protested, “let me see what damage he has caused.” When the laegel only fastened his tunic around him, Estel lost the thin shell of patience that had been containing his fury, and yelled, “I know that I promised not to interfere, but I will not stand idly by while he beats you!”

 _Ada did not do this, did he?_ the Elf questioned himself. He ignored the human’s outburst with sorrowful weariness. Try as he might to recall, the Wood-Elf remembered nothing about the origins of his newly found injuries. He closed his trunk and sat down upon it, unconsciously running his hands through his hair as he considered, _I cannot recall much of last night._ He fingered with his uninjured hand the contusions on his injured one, wracking his mind to remember what had happened the night before. He remembered escorting his father to his guest chambers and then speaking with Thranduil of their upcoming hunting trip, of Kalin having met a she-Elf that he favored, and then there was nothing. He had no hazy recollection of what had occurred, no halfway formed memory of what had come after that – the laegel remembered absolutely nothing past that point. It was as if that part of last night had been wiped clean from his mind, as if the evening previous were an Elfling’s chalk picture, drawn on the flagstones, that had been washed away by a sudden rain shower. No trace remained. In fact, he wasn’t even sure of when he had left his father’s company or how he had come to his own rooms.

With his head down, staring intently at where he rubbed his sore wrist, the laegel was startled when the human was suddenly kneeling before him again. His anger now turned to concern at seeing Legolas so overwhelmed, Estel slid his hands along the Silvan’s thighs, massaging the muscles there while he peered up into Legolas’ face. Although his lover needed no reason to touch him, it was obvious that the Ranger was forfending the return of the grievous voice that had so often before taken the Wood-Elf’s attention away from his surroundings. Legolas did not hear the vile vociferations, but he took comfort from the man’s touch nonetheless.

“You were acting most peculiarly last night, Greenleaf.” Continuing to rub the Elf’s legs, Estel told his lover with more gentleness than he had yet to show this morning, “Why is that, Legolas? What did your father say? What did he do?”

“I do not know what happened to cause this,” the laegel was forced into admitting. He watched the human stroke his legs, but then turned his gaze to Estel’s so that the human would know that he did not prevaricate as he told him, “I do not believe that Ada struck me. I don’t believe that we even argued.”

With his hands moving from the Wood-Elf’s legs to his arms, the Ranger kept his touch always on the Prince. Again, the Elf tried to recollect the night previous, closing his eyes to do so. He opened them when Estel prodded, “Last night, Greenleaf, when you came in, you said you had drunk too much, that you and your father had shared wine, that you wanted only to sleep. When I asked you then of what you and Thranduil had spoken, you told me that you did not remember.”

 _I drank too much wine?_ the Elf thought with a smirk gracing his fair face. The very idea that he had drunk too much wine sounded a jest. Mostly due to his King’s propensity for stout wine and the beatings that ofttimes ensued while his father was inebriated, the laegel had never been fond of any kind of spirits. He shook his head and smiled outright, wondering why the Ranger would even say something so obviously untrue at such a time, but the increasing concern on the Adan’s face told the Elf that Estel was not joking. Aloud he repeated his thoughts, asking, “I told you that I drank too much wine?”

The human was now consummately distressed. “You do not even remember telling me that?” Estel stood from where he knelt, only to push the laegel gently over so that he could sit next to him on the trunk. “Legolas,” he intoned, the exasperation and worry he felt evinced in how the human appeared nearly on the verge of weeping from utmost frustration, which in turn made the laegel wish to elude more questions and hide the further knowledge of his not knowing how he even came to be in his rooms. He had no wish to cause Aragorn more angst. Taking the Wood-Elf’s unscathed limb in his, Estel wedged the Prince’s hand between his own. “You were gone for hours – you can’t have spent all that time with him talking peacefully. It is not in your father’s nature to be kind, most especially to you. Tell me the truth, Greenleaf.”

Huffing in disbelief that Estel was insulting his father, and moreover, that he had just intimated that the Prince was lying to him by omission, Legolas stood from the trunk, ready to argue. Yet, furious knocking interrupted their disagreement before it could escalate. Ere either could walk to the door to answer it, Kalin burst into the unlocked room, shouting, “Legolas!”

The sudden, distraught appearance of his otherwise reserved sentry took the laegel off his guard, and both he and the Adan forgot their quarrel. Even though Kalin saw the Prince the moment he had come through the door, he still looked around him, searching the laegel’s bedchamber as if seeking out something or someone. Once pacified that whatever he had feared was not true, the sentry let loose a rush of air from his chest that deflated the Wood-Elf’s entire being before he breathed in deeply once again to say, “Legolas. You are well.” Striding to his charge, Kalin looked over the Prince from head to toe and saw no visible damage, for the Prince’s clothing – by purpose – hid the bruises that Kalin might have otherwise viewed. The sentry confused Estel and Legolas further by berating himself, “I should never have agreed to let the King go his own way without a guard at all times! But I am glad that you are well, my Prince. When we found your father, I feared something had been done to you, as well…”

Still perplexed, the Prince looked to Estel to check if he understood Kalin’s ramblings, but seeing the same bewilderment in the human as he felt himself, Legolas halted his sentry’s speech, asking him, “What is it, Kalin? What is wrong?”

Taking another deep breath, the frenzied sentry grabbed his Prince by the arm, pulling him along to the door as he explained, “Your father is ill, Legolas. We cannot wake him.”

With this clarification, the Prince no longer needed to be pulled, but ran out of the room, his sentry only a step behind him, as they sprinted the short distance to the hallway wherein Thranduil’s rooms were located. 


	16. Chapter 16

The King’s servant Faidnil stood wringing his hands while staring through the open door into the sitting room. He gave the Prince a slight bow and an anxious frown as Kalin and Legolas sprinted through the doorway, with Aragorn coming close behind. The laegel was unsure what he would see when entering the King’s bedroom and slowed down out of hesitancy to find out. Although several of the King’s sentries were waiting outside in the hall with Faidnil, only Ninan was within the rooms, standing by his liege’s bed in fretful idleness. Forgetting their argument for the nonce, Estel came to walk beside the Prince through the sitting room, offering his silent support by taking hold of the laegel’s hand for a brief squeeze, until together they entered the bedchambers and the Silvan walked to his father’s bed. Estel lingered just inside the doorway.

His father lay on the mattress, motionless and peaceful, not pale or bleeding, and seemingly not on the verge of death at all. _He is sleeping,_ was the laegel’s first assumption, although he doubted that his sentry would have come to fetch him had the King only been asleep and had they not tried to wake Thranduil beforehand. _His breathing is not labored; he is as serene as an Elfling._ From head to toe did he look over his sire. While the King did not move, he did not seem unconscious, either, for Thranduil’s eyes would flicker behind his closed lids as if dreaming. Had Legolas not known better than to believe his father would participate in a joke, the Prince might have concluded that this was a hoax.

“What has happened?” he asked Ninan, who stood at the side of the King’s bed, his face slack and white with distress. “What do you know?”

“I know little, Legolas. Faidnil came in this morning to wake the King, but your father would not stir. We have tried to rouse him with cold water and loud noise to no avail.” Plain in the sentry’s tone was his anger at himself for not having protected his King from this, although currently, none of them was even sure if Thranduil had suffered any wrongdoing. Turning his attention back to the Elvenking, the stalwart sentry assured the Prince, “We have sent word to Lord Elrond for his advice. He will be here soon, I am certain.”

Legolas climbed onto the bed, scooting until he was sitting by his father’s hip. _All this worry and he is likely just drunk._ Ninan would know better than anyone would about his King’s tendency to his besotted sleep, but the sentry obviously thought it was worse than this. Kalin had come to stand beside Ninan, and together they watched with hope as the Prince tried to wake his father.

“Ada,” he called harshly, shaking the King’s arm a bit, as he tried to rouse the elder Elf. Louder, and with more force, the laegel repeated his command while shaking the King by his torso, determined to revive his father from his drunken slumber.

“Careful, Legolas,” Ninan hissed, coming forward to put his hands out to stop the laegel from continuing his efforts. “You may aggravate some injury that we do not know of.”

“Yes, you’re right,” he agreed and nodded, but then the sudden import of this hit him. His appearance of peaceful slumber was the true hoax – something was terribly wrong with the King. He had seen his father passed out from overindulgence, but even then, his Ada was a light sleeper and could wake at the slightest provocation.

At that moment, Elrond charged through the door without knocking, with the twins following behind as they sought to help the King of Mirkwood. Giving no greeting to anyone in the room, forthwith the Peredhel healer began to examine his royal patient, starting first with Thranduil’s golden head. He probed the King’s skull, looking for signs of injury, moving his way downwards to the sovereign’s neck and shoulders. The twins began at Thranduil’s bare feet, each taking a leg, to perform their own thorough search for any signs of trauma or injury that might help to explain the King’s strange condition. There was no blood upon the sheets, no signs of a struggle. Nothing in the room was out of the ordinary and nothing appeared to be missing. The only odd sight around to be seen was the Mirkwood sovereign, completely insensate. When they were finished inspecting the front of his body, they gently rolled Thranduil to his side to examine his back. The twins looked to their father, who shook his head, and began to straighten the King’s clothing where he had been forced to lift or shift it out of the way to see the Mirkwood Elf’s skin.

Finally, Elrond spoke softly, “There is no sign of injury. He has not been struck; no bones are broken. A more thorough examination will tell, but I think we will not find any injury upon him.”

Those in the room absorbed this information. For those present with knowledge of healing, which consisted of the Noldor and Estel, Elrond’s conclusion meant something to them that did not immediately occur to Legolas or the Silvan sentries. If it were not physical injury, then that left the most obvious of things for an Elf to be suffering from, the only option that they could think of that would cause the King to be unconscious with no visible wounds and currently no suspicion of foul play – Thranduil faded. Legolas and the two Silvan sentries still held onto the idea that somehow the King had been assaulted, and their thinking led them to wondering aloud about the hows and whys of it.

“None entered after Legolas left. I did not even enter the room, for the Prince told me that the King was sleeping,” the worried sentry bemoaned, hovering around the healer and watching his every movement as Elrond reexamined the King’s skull, this time more slowly, palpating the silken, blond head with paramount care. “I should have checked on him. I stood outside in the hall all the night until Faidnil came to wake him. I don’t think he had any visitors before I came to stand guard.”

“He did not. After the feast, I was with him the whole of last night. I walked him from the hall of fire to his rooms,” the Silvan found himself offering, his mouth adding of its own accord without being asked for the information, as he did not even remember it, “there was none other here.”

All in the room turned to look at him. “Was he well when you left him last night? He was not complaining of some illness?” Ninan asked, careful not to charge the Prince with any wrongdoing, though Legolas could already tell that he accused the laegel of being the cause of his King’s condition.

Legolas shook his head; he was still unable to recollect the details of the time he had spent alone with his father last night and was now afraid to admit to those in the room that he could not remember. “He was inebriated from too much wine at the feast, but no more so than usual.”

With his arms crossed over his chest, Ninan complained fiercely, his anger at his own inability to keep his King from harm directed now at the Prince, as his frustration overcame him, “Why did the King not find me when he was leaving the feast, Legolas? Why were you leaving him alone without a minder?”

The Wood-Elf recoiled as if struck, and held his arms over his battered chest. Legolas would never have expected any violence towards the King, not here in the valley. Quietly, Legolas moved back into sitting beside his father on the bed and tried to demur, echoing Kalin’s statement from earlier, “We expected no trouble here in the valley.” When this did not pacify his father’s sentry, he added, saying once more, “He told you himself that he wanted no sentries on his heels for his stay here.”

“Indeed, he ordered me thus, and still I stood outside his door to ensure his safety. He is your King, Legolas,” the sentry continued, his wrath mounting at the ambiguous answers he was receiving, “and if he was drunk, then it was your responsibility to see to his safety. Why did you not call his guard for him? If I hadn’t been looking for the two of you last night, he would have been left alone in his rooms, passed out.”

“Enough,” the irritated Ranger warned, stepping in front of the Wood-Elf as if his very presence could protect the Prince from these questions. “Legolas says he was alone with the King, and no ill came to him then. Or do you blame Legolas for this?” the Ranger asked bluntly of Ninan.

The King’s stolid sentry was not affected by Aragorn’s anger, and replied to his Prince instead of the human, changing the topic, “Legolas. You were acting strangely when I met you in the hallway last night. You and the King had been drinking. If you were alone with the King after leaving the feast, then you were the last to see him awake. You had just walked from his room when I spoke to you in the corridor.”

 _I cannot even remember talking to Ninan in the hallway,_ he chided himself, _much less that I was drinking wine with Ada._ Taking his father’s lax hand in his, the hand that had so often struck him in anger, Legolas held it to his chest while he searched his mind for even the faintest hint that might help him to recall his missing memories.

“Should something have happened here last night between you and your father to cause this malady, I would not hesitate to blame it upon your misfortunes, and not you,” the sentry went on, his ire simmering into a false conciliation that the Prince knew was meant to be reassuring, but was poorly executed. “But we need to know, my Prince. We need to know so that we can devise how best to aid your father.”

“Tell us what you remember, Greenleaf,” his Minyatar interrupted, adding to Ninan’s insult with his own voiced suspicions in saying, “perhaps there is something that you do not remember just now, something that you do not wish to remember.”

All of them stood around the King’s wide bed; the twins, their father, and the two sentries all seemed to crowd around Legolas, moving closer to him without being aware of it, it seemed, as they congregated towards where the Prince sat at the head of his father’s bed. Bile rose in Legolas’ throat, tears stung his eyes, and he could not look at anyone in the room. _They think I am mad. After these past months of trying to prove to them that I am well, even Minyatar and the twins believe me to have hurt my own father in some crazed fit of anger._ Only Estel seemed to believe that the Prince had nothing to do with this, and given the bruises that the Ranger had seen upon his body earlier, oddly enough it was the human who had the most evidence with which to conclude that Legolas had reason to hurt his Ada.

Unable to hide his resentment at how readily his friends had turned on him, Legolas disclosed to his listeners with a heavy voice, “Nothing of import happened. We came to his rooms last night. We talked about the hunting trip, about who would come and how we would hunt. I think he told me a story of Naneth, about his courting her.”

Legolas looked down into the bed beside him, where his father remained in his deep sleep. He rubbed his forehead, for it ached as he tried to evoke what had occurred. That his head hurt at all was of some shock to him, as he couldn’t think of a time before now that it had felt this way without his being wounded.

“And then?” his lover asked, stretching out his hand to rub the laegel’s shoulder. Estel had already asked this question just a short while ago in private and knew that Legolas had no answer. Perhaps he thought that the Wood-Elf had been lying before and would have some answer now. He repeated, “What then?”

“That is all. We talked for a while.” The Prince wished that he could educe details that would clarify his father’s strange condition, but still nothing would come to mind. Knowing that all looked to him as if he were the culprit behind the King’s odd slumber, the laegel tried to choose his words carefully to avoid deceit when he told them, “I was drunk, I suppose, when I returned to my rooms. I cannot say what happened last night, as I must have been too inebriated to remember it. I honestly do not recall anything more but that we spoke.” He did not admit not to knowing that he had spoken with Ninan in the hall or that he could not even recall drinking – the Elves around him already supposed that he had gone mad with grief or rage, he could tell, and he wanted to give them no more proof for their judgments.

The Adan again repeated what he had asked the laegel earlier and had never received an answer for, querying, “You only spoke to him – for hours, Greenleaf? Surely there is something else to be told?”

Maybe it was because Aragorn still expected the laegel to admit to his father beating him, or because the Prince wasn’t being as forthcoming as he wished, but the Ranger was starting to look as perturbed and accusative as were the others around Legolas. Fortuitous for the Prince, the human did not mention to those around him how he had found Legolas to be battered this morning. The Prince was sure Aragorn would oppugn the Wood-Elf later for what he was not saying now. Perhaps worst of all this was the Prince’s suspicion that his friends were right and he was to blame. He did not have the wherewithal to defeat this misgiving within himself, much less to lay to rest these qualms for his friends. Feeling sorry for himself right now was a luxury that Legolas could ill afford, however. His father was his concern.

With finality, he told them, “That is all that I remember.” His back straightened and he tried to shake off the lethargy of depression that had begun to weigh him down.

“For how long did you speak of your Naneth, Legolas?” Lord Elrond asked gently, not dissuaded by the Prince’s statement. The Elven Lord stopped in his rearranging of the King’s body, where he had been trying to make Thranduil comfortable, should the King be able to feel discomfort. Instead, Elrond came to stand beside the bed close to where Legolas sat by his father.

Thinking back upon it, the laegel tried to bring to mind this information, and could only remember his father telling him of the story of trying to woo his mother into going with him to the spring festival. “A few moments, Minyatar. Not more than a few moments.”

He could not fathom why this was important, until the healer asked, “And there was nothing else that you spoke of that might upset him? Nothing that might cause him sorrow?”

_Grief. They think he is lost in grief._

“Even that single memory told to Greenleaf might have led Thranduil to think of his Queen long after Legolas had left last night,” Estel suggested, giving his lover a glance of pity that turned the Prince’s stomach.

He knew what Estel supposed. The Ranger thought of how often Legolas had relapsed, how far and quickly the laegel had fallen into despair. He was not at all convinced that his father was suffering from sorrow: Legolas knew grief well, and it would take more than a few memories to cause his father to fall into depression, not after all these years. _Perhaps they are right, though, and it is sorrow that has taken hold of him. Perhaps he grieves because he has come to the valley to see you, and you would still choose Estel over him,_ the Woodland Prince considered, as the nefarious seedling planted in his mind the night before by Mithfindl finally emerged.

So much like the vindictive and pernicious reasoning of the scar did his thoughts sound that the Prince instinctively reached for his thigh to grab the muscle there. It was not the mar, not the embodiment of his faer’s grief that had spoken to him, but his own thoughts subverted under Mithfindl’s will. Legolas had no more than gripped the trousers above his thigh than his hand was caught by Elrond, who quickly and kindly wrenched the laegel’s hand away to hold between his own. The Prince was pulled from his thoughts and looked up to his Minyatar, only to see that all in the room watched him – and they all knew exactly what he had been about to do, or at least, they thought they knew. Most especially, Estel watched the Wood-Elf and also Elrond’s hands as they rubbed the Silvan’s hand that they held between them. The Ranger looked upon the Prince with such weariness and disappointment that Legolas had to turn away.

 _I will never convince any of them that I am well. Not ever,_ he thought. He had not even heard the voice of the scar and had merely reached for his thigh out of habit, but already those around him had concluded that he had fallen back into his fey sorrow. The Prince turned his attention back to his father. He suddenly knew why his King was caught in the miring, seditious draught of Elven grief that could potentially blow out the fiery life of his father’s faer. _Even Ada saw that I would never be well. I disgrace him just by being alive, but particularly by being with Estel._

Bitterly, the Silvan pulled his hand free from Elrond’s and stood from his seat upon the bed so that he could move away from the elder Elf. He did not deserve comfort, not when he realized, _Ada grieves because of me, not because of Naneth. He grieves because I have betrayed him, because I have brought shame to him by choosing Estel over him. I broke my word to him in choosing a human lover that he despises._ _He came here not to take me home, but to mend our differences, and yet I do nothing but continue to shame him._

And still they stared at him, watching his every movement and judging him as if they knew his thoughts. He was not sure what they expected of him. Perhaps they thought he would break down in sobs or take the small dagger in the fruit bowl next to the bed and thrust it into his leg to quell the voice that they thought he now heard. Perhaps they thought he had brought his father to this state of grief, and perhaps they thought that he was a horrid son for doing so. The Wood-Elf was inclined to do most anything if it would relieve him of their staring, for he could not long endure being the center of their condemnatory attention. He pushed these thoughts and their criticisms away without pondering them further. There were orders to be given, and without his King awake, they were the Prince’s to see through.

“We should check the sentries stationed throughout the house to find out what they know of the movements in this wing, just in case it is not sorrow that keeps him comatose,” the Prince asked quietly of Elrond, knowing that his Minyatar would not hesitate to comply. “And I would wish for more sentries to be stationed nearby, if indeed there is some plot against my father.”

As expected, Lord Elrond nodded, though he stared at the laegel thoughtfully, his expression giving the Prince no clue as to what he was thinking, though Legolas knew that much like with Aragorn, the questioning was not yet over between he and his Minyatar. He would have many queries put to him from both before the day was done, and more so now that they thought his marred flesh had awoken to influence him again.

Lord Elrond told his sons, “See to it that there remain two sentries at the end of these halls,” and added to Ninan and Kalin, “and it would be best for the Mirkwood sentries to be stationed at Thranduil’s door, and within, perhaps. I want there to be no question that we are committed to ensuring that the King of Mirkwood will be safe in the valley, whatever is the cause of this malady.”

Grabbing by its back the chair across the way, the Elf Prince dragged it to his father’s side. Instead of sitting in this chair, the Prince sat on the bed beside his King. Again, he took his Ada’s upper arms in his grip, shaking the elder Elf roughly to rouse him. “Wake Ada,” he demanded, his voice trenchant in hopes that perhaps he could anger his father into waking.

He had no reference by which to make sense of the situation. In Mirkwood, there were surely some who distrusted Thranduil, who wished to have his throne for themselves, or who disagreed with the King’s stance on some topic or his dictum for some problem; however, there had never been any direct action taken against Thranduil by any of these Elves. This was the first time that Legolas could remember where his father’s life was in danger. Not even when he was little – before his Naneth had died, when his King still rode out to battle with the warriors – had Legolas feared for his father’s well-being. Of course, when an Elfling, the laegel had no concept of death, yet he had seen enough of it now to understand. Besides this, Legolas could not imagine a single Elf in all of Imladris who would do this to his father, for none had anything to gain from it. Incredulous and still confused, the Prince’s mind could not conjure any reason for his father’s condition, lest it actually be grief as the healer had suggested.

Last night there had been some hope that King and Prince would truly make amends. He thought to tell those around him this, to make them appreciate that he could not have done this, would not have done this purposefully. Early yesterday afternoon, before the feast, he and his father had been talking of reconciliation and Thranduil had even promised not to fight with Legolas over his choosing Estel as his mate. These things he remembered, and perhaps nothing else, but these things were enough to evince to the Wood-Elf that his Minyatar and Estel were wrong. His father had been hopeful last night, as had he been, and the King had not been grieving.

But if the King were indeed caught in sorrow, then there could be no other cause of it than the Prince.

He told them none of this.

Closing his eyes at the futility of trying to wake his father, the laegel rubbed at his aching head again, and finally moved to sit in the seat he had placed by the bed. Despite that each had something that needed to be done to see to the ailing King of Mirkwood, none had left the room just yet, and the Prince had his own suspicion that it was because they did not wish him to be alone with the King.

“We cannot know,” the Prince said to no one in particular, though everyone in the room listened intently. “Perhaps he drank too much. Maybe he will wake in a few hours. We must wait to see.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Estel nodded his head, and perhaps the others might have made similar gesticulatory platitudes to appease their friend, but the laegel did not see them. He watched only his father. He did not need to see their pitying, openly mistrustful stares.

It was clear who their primary suspect for this strange occurrence was. Unfortunately, Legolas could not help but agree with them.


	17. Chapter 17

They had been waiting all day for the King of Mirkwood to awaken from his unnatural slumber. For Aragorn, the time had been spent idly watching the activity in the courtyard outside, while keeping a vigilant watch on Legolas, who in turn kept watch over his King. Every now and again, he would walk to the laegel to rub his shoulders, touch his arm or hand, or say a word of encouragement, just in case the scar spoke to Legolas. Hours ago, after the others had left to see to the tasks given them, the Ranger had tried to engage the Prince in conversation to find out from Legolas if his lingering grief had resurfaced to vocalize its detestation once again, but the Elf would not say more than a few words and those were noncommittal. Since attempting to disturb his healing thigh this morning, seemingly to quell the mar’s voice as he had so often done during the worst of his grieving, the Prince had not repeated the gesture.

His Greenleaf had not moved from the chair he had placed by the bed except to move onto the bed during one of his many attempts to waken his father with pleas, demands, and shaking. Thus far, the King had not awakened, though several times during the day, his mouth had twitched, his brow had knit and then relaxed, or his fingers had fluttered where they lay on the blanket. These small actions were good signs, as they showed that though the King’s mind was insentient, his body was not following suit. However, each time Thranduil shifted or his breathing changed, the Prince would begin his optimistic attempts to wake his father, and each time the King would not wake. Watching his lover bear this constant mounting and then dashing of hope was as hard for the Ranger as it was for Legolas. He felt the laegel’s disconsolation and feared the consequences should the King not wake – not for the King’s interest, but for the Prince’s sake. He wished that Thranduil would awaken if only to end the laegel’s excruciation.

 _Legolas said he had too much wine, and even Ninan seemed to think that Legolas was drunk,_ he thought to himself, adding, _which could explain why Greenleaf doesn’t remember and why he was acting so strangely last night. It was a poor time for him to try to keep up with his father’s drinking, if that is indeed what happened. If he’d abstained from drinking, we might know what had caused Thranduil’s inexplicable malaise._

For as long as he had known him, the Prince had never drunk more wine than what it took to satisfy his thirst while supping, though he’d heard of a time or two of when the twins and Legolas had partaken of too much wine when Elflings, with these stories mostly ending with lectures from Elrond. So while it was strange that Legolas had been drinking enough to be inebriated, it explained, perhaps, why the Prince could not now remember what had occurred while he’d been intoxicated, as the Prince, unaccustomed to consuming that much wine, would not have been as cogent as normal.

_His being drunk would also explain why he wished to sleep last night._

All day the human had been thinking of his lover’s odd behavior the night previous and what it might explain of Thranduil’s current condition. So far, he had only rehashed the barest of details, for Legolas could remember practically nothing, and with no visible injury to the King, there was no evidence on which to base any attack from the Prince. Indeed, the only one who seemed to have been injured was Legolas. As his thoughts turned back to the bruises upon his lover’s chest, Estel’s attention was drawn away from the window and back to the King and Prince across the bedchambers. The Ranger had not had the chance that morning to establish the extent of the laegel’s bruises, nor see to it that Legolas’ ribs were not cracked. Estel knew that the Prince had chosen his current tunic with its high collar to hide the contusions around his throat, and thus far, no one else had seen them. Therefore, no one else was privy to the damage done to the Prince except Aragorn, and the Ranger had to be glad that Legolas’ humiliation in being his father’s whipping boy had at least kept the Wood-Elf sentries from the knowledge that the King had beat his son yet again. Without knowing the cause of Thranduil’s condition, Aragorn did not want Legolas to be the focus of their qualms any more than he already was – if they knew that the Prince had been battered, they might have sympathized with why Legolas had caused his father to fall into grief, but they would not have forgiven him for it.

And it seemed clear to Estel that Thranduil was under the thrall of the same kind of sorrow that had almost claimed Legolas from his friends and family. With no injury to his person and no one other than the Prince in attendance of the King last night, there was no other possible cause, in the Adan’s reckoning. Estel could well recall the beating that Legolas had endured when standing up to his father and leaving Mirkwood to come to Imladris several months ago – he had heard the story from the Prince, who had been more than ashamed in the telling of it, as to how he had left his King weeping in his study after nearly being killed by him. If something similar had happened last night, something facilitated by son and sire being intoxicated, then Estel could not blame the Prince for standing up to his abusive, drunken father again. The King’s sentries would not be so understanding and Estel would not let his lover suffer for it.

_I only wish he could remember. Or that Thranduil would waken. Then we could deal with what may come without the sentries’ involvement._

Legolas was as still as his sleeping King. Thranduil had not shown any signs of movement or waking for an hour or more, and in that time, the Prince had not shifted the slightest bit. He kept his gaze always on his Ada, his body rigid and tense as if prepared to leap from the chair and onto the bed to try to waken his father once more. When the Adan could bear the sight of his lover’s silent anguish no longer, he turned back to the window. He watched as a mother and her Elfling walked across the courtyard hand in hand, the Elfling as filthy as a pig in the sty. The two were probably on their way home, most likely for a bath. As he espied their movement, Estel saw the Elfling’s Naneth looking down at her child to shake her head, a graceful smile curling the corners of her lips, until both were out of sight. He stared in the spot where they had been long after they had disappeared from sight.

_The sun will soon set._

He would do whatever it took to protect Legolas. Even if the Elf had committed whatever act that had caused Thranduil to be in this stupor, the Ranger would try his best to keep the Prince from knowing it, being as the laegel could not now remember. If one day he did remember, Aragorn would then see to it that Legolas never suffered any repercussions for his actions, and would never undergo his father’s cruelty for it, should the King waken.

 _Ada will be here again soon,_ he knew, for the Elf Lord had promised to return to Thranduil’s rooms again that evening, or if they should call for him. He had returned around noon to check on Thranduil, but had left to aid the twins in their search for some remedy that might expedite the King’s wakening. _Perhaps Ada can help me convince Legolas to leave long enough to eat._

As he turned once more to view the Elf of whom he thought, the human saw the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye. Brightly silvern, a diadem was half under the end of the bed where the King lay. He stepped closer and in the path of the diminishing sunlight to block the glare on the object.

 _It is Legolas’ crown. I do not remember him having it on last night when he came to his rooms, but he had it on when he brought Thranduil here from the feast,_ he noted, walking to the end of the bed and intending to pick it up from the floor. Estel stopped when he saw that Ninan and the two Mirkwood sentries stationed in the sitting room were watching him. Instead, the Ranger stared back at them and crossed his arms over his chest in hopes that they would turn away. It seemed that the Silvans’ suspicions for their Prince extended to his human lover, as well, and they were not keen on having the Ranger in the same room as their King. As expected, the Silvan only stared back at him emotionlessly until they lost interest in the human, and slyly, Estel waited until the sentries had their backs to him once more, their whispered conversation renewed, and then stooped quickly to seize the mithril adornment before they took notice. The crown pressed against his belly under his tunic, he ambled slowly back to the windowed doors of the balcony and out of the sentries’ view, all without having revived their interest. Legolas, who still sat watching his father, had not given the Ranger as much as a cursory glance during this performance.

 _It is unlike Legolas to have thrown this to the ground,_ he thought, but then remembered that the Prince had done this very thing the evening before, when he had been frustrated while trying to get the diadem to stay on his head. The thought made the weary Ranger smile.

When he was sure that sentries were not entering the room to see what he was doing, the Adan brought the circlet from underneath his tunic. Rolling the crown around in his hands, Estel inspected it. Attached to the small mithril loops were thick, long strands of blond hair, the ends of some crusted red with Legolas’ blood. The Ranger had tied these strands to the crown himself, having taken over the task for the Prince last night. The loose knots he had used could have been easily untied, but no care had been given to do this.

Fingering the dried claret on the strands of hair, the Ranger thought, _It is blood, as if this circlet were yanked from Greenleaf’s head._ As soon as he had thought it, the Adan knew it to be true.

Feeling now as if he were holding damning evidence that might be used against Legolas, the human began pulling from the circlet each and every hair, stuffing them in the pocket of his tunic, until the small crown was clean. With the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped the mithril until it shined so that no blood could be found on it. Once sure that nothing could be told from this diadem’s appearance, the Ranger padded softly to the chest of drawers beside where the King’s trunks of belongings sat, and placed the Prince’s circlet upon the chest where Thranduil’s more elaborate crown sat. He did not want the sentries to see Legolas’ crown, nor know that he had found it on the floor, bloodied. Already Ninan blamed the Prince for Thranduil’s condition. Although he might earn himself trouble by doing it, Estel had no intention of giving the Silvan sentry any more credence to his beliefs.

Moreover, finding the Prince’s crown caused the Ranger to worry further about the Silvan’s condition. He had already seen the bruising on Legolas’ side, and now it seemed that his scalp bore some wounds – what else had been done to the Elf, the human wished to know now more than before. _I would see what damage Thranduil has perpetrated this time._ Thinking of some way to get the Prince alone, Aragorn tried to use hunger to convince the laegel to leave with him.

“Greenleaf,” he said quietly to gain the Elf’s attention, which came in the form of a slight tilt of the laegel’s head towards the human, though his eyes never once left his father. “Are you not hungry?” he asked, squatting down close before the Prince’s chair so that he could look up into Legolas’ face. “Come with me to the kitchens to find supper.”

Legolas shook his head, replying, “Go on without me.” Finally looking away from his King, the Prince laid his hand upon the human’s face, caressing Aragorn’s stubbly jaw for a moment. “I do not hunger, Estel.”

“Please,” he asked, capturing the Elf’s hand to press harder into his cheek, “come eat with me. We can be back before nightfall to stay with your father.”

Again, the Wood-Elf shook his head in response, and this time did not reply but looked back to his father’s inert form. Since it was clear that he could not talk the Prince into leaving with him, he settled for the least he could get. He stood, walked behind where the laegel sat, and placed his hands on the Silvan’s shoulders. Staying this way for a few moments, the human then began to unplait the braids from the Elf’s hair, combing his fingers through the still sleep tangled but silky strands from Legolas’ forehead to the very long ends. Legolas sighed faintly in contentment. The Elf enjoyed having his hair combed and touched, Aragorn knew. Moving to the braids closer to the crown of Legolas’ head, upon which the actual crown had sat, the Ranger began to undo these braids, as well, all the while comforting his anxious Wood-Elf with his touch. Ere he had begun his actual examination of the Elf’s aureate head, he heard his father’s voice as it greeted the guards outside in the hall.

 _I’m not sure if it is wise for even Adar to know that Legolas is bruised; at least, not yet,_ he decided, becoming abrupt in his actions. It was not that he didn’t trust his adopted father to know that Legolas had been assaulted the night previous, it was that the human didn’t want to speak of the Prince’s injuries with the Mirkwood sentries within hearing distance. He presently heard his father talking to the sentries in the sitting room, and before the Elf Lord came within the bedroom, the Ranger tried to finish his task, combing his fingers through the laegel’s hair at the top of his head. Finally, locating the place where he had knotted the Prince’s hair around the loops in the crown, he found the friable, coarsely dried blood of several fresh scabs. Legolas inhaled sharply at the sudden sting of having the until now unknown wounds pestered and moved his head away from Aragorn’s probing fingers, his own hand flying up to feel the sore spot on his scalp.

“I am sorry,” he apologized softly to the Prince, though he was less than contrite. The evidence of his reservations were just confirmed, and the Adan was now even more certain of his own conclusions of what had happened last night between father and son to cause this result come morning.

“Greenleaf?” Elrond asked, walking into the bedroom at that moment and seeing Legolas’ puzzled and pained expression as he palpated the spot upon his head.

Without asking aloud what the matter was or giving Legolas the chance to answer, the Elven Lord pushed aside the laegel’s hands with a kind touch and felt for himself the dried blood and swelling there. He gave Estel a questioning look but again did not say aloud his query, evincing to the human that fortuitously his adopted father had the same intentions as did he – that is, to find out the details of what had occurred last night before making anyone else aware of them, especially the protective Mirkwood sentries standing in the outer room. He’d no intention of answering any question his father might have posed to him because of the inquisitive sentries and now it seemed that Elrond had the same purpose.

Instead of questioning the Prince on this matter, either, the Elf Lord asked while he walked to his royal patient, “How is your father, Legolas? Has there been any improvement?”

“None, Minyatar,” the Prince despaired, causing Estel to reach out to him, to lay his hand on the Elf’s upper arm in an effort to comfort.

Checking with his experienced healer’s hands the King’s body once more, Elrond found nothing different from before. He gently pried open the King’s eyelids with his thumbs and forefingers to see that the whites of Thranduil’s eyes were still showing, the blue irises rolled upwards. The King shifted his head the slightest bit to the side during this final assessment. Elrond startled a bit and released the King’s lids, which slipped shut immediately. He looked to Legolas and Estel for elucidation.

“He has been doing that all afternoon,” the Prince told his Minyatar, bounding up from his chair to perch beside his Ada on the bed yet another time, as he had every time his father had shown such activity. “But he will not wake.”

“That is an improvement, Legolas,” the healer told the Prince, standing back from the bed to give the laegel room when the Wood-Elf began again to try to wake his King. “He did not move at all this morning. Perhaps his body is wakening more quickly than his mind.”

Legolas wasn’t listening to this consolation from his Minyatar, but shaking softly his father’s torso by his hold onto the King’s arms and imploring him to wake with heartbreaking pleas.

 _This will drive him mad_ _._ He believed that the King would rouse eventually. He was not sure why he should feel so convinced, except in that he could not imagine the vile Elf to give in so easily to grief – and the Ranger held tight to his belief that it was sorrow keeping the King in its spell. What had caused this woe was uncertain. That Legolas had been harmed during Thranduil’s fit was definite. The King would waken, and then he would somehow seek retribution for his sorrow from the Prince. Estel was sure of it.

Looking to his adopted father, the human hoped to find some way to communicate to Elrond to do what he could not; that is, to convince the Prince to leave this room so that he could see to his bruising, try to get Legolas to eat, and to relieve the laegel from watching over his King, if only for a while. The ever-perceptive healer must have had analogous thinking. Using a tone that the Adan had heard many times as a child, one that allowed no room for argument, Elrond told Legolas under the guise of a question, “Will you join me for dinner, Greenleaf?”

Legolas had heard this tone many times, as well, and as an Elfling most of all. Finally, he gave up his effort to wake the King and looked away from his father to the Elf Lord. Grudgingly he agreed, “For a short time, Minyatar, if we do not stray far. Perhaps we can have a servant bring something to my room?”

“Of course, Greenleaf,” Elrond complied, sticking out his hand for the laegel to take. With utmost reluctance, the Prince took Elrond’s proffered hand and rose from the bed, following behind Estel as the Ranger led the way from the room. Looping his arm through the laegel’s, Elrond gradually drew the younger Elf away from his Ada’s bedchambers and into the sitting room, where the Prince stopped to speak to his fellow Silvan.

“I will return shortly,” the Wood-Elf told the sentries, not caring if they wanted him to return or not. He instructed them, making plain that they knew this was not a request, but an order, “I will be in my rooms. Find me should his condition change.”

The Mirkwood sentries nodded in tandem, relieved to see their Prince leave, as if they had feared he would perform another ill act against the King. None of them, not even Ninan, had dared to make the now distrusted laegel leave during the day, none of them dared to argue with his leaving now, and should the King wake while Legolas was in his rooms, Estel knew that the Prince would be the first to find out. Even though suspect, the laegel was still their Prince.

He led them swiftly to Legolas’ bedchambers, where he opened the door for the Wood-Elf, letting him enter the room, and watched as his father talked to one of the Imladrian sentries who had been stationed at the end of the hallway, asking him to find a servant to fetch food for the three of them. Estel stayed in the doorway until Elrond finished giving the sentry his task and together they entered. Once all were inside, Aragorn closed the door to maintain their privacy and walked to the unlit fireplace, where he leant against the mantel. He first thought to pack and light his pipe, just to have something to busy his hands, but truly, his hands wanted to occupy themselves in ascertaining the laegel’s well-being, so he remained as he was in hopes that Elrond would convince Legolas to let them see to his injuries.

The Wood-Elf had sat on the couch nearby, slumped and defeated in posture, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“Where are you injured, young one?” the healer asked forthwith, walking straight to the Prince without even being told that the Elf had been hurt further to demand, “Stand, and off with your tunic, Greenleaf. Let me see that your ribs are not broken again.”

The Ranger had asked the laegel to do much the same that morning and had not been able to convince the Elf to comply. Legolas did not need to be asked twice from his Minyatar, however, who held the same sway over him as did his King. He stood and pulled off his tunic, and then his undershirt, to expose his torso.

 _At least it is not as severe as I thought,_ he told himself. He had only seen the one side of the laegel’s torso that morning and was relieved to see that he hadn’t missed much else. The bruises upon his lover were few and faint: the contusion he had earlier seen on the Elf’s side, and another, lighter one on his chest, were all there were, save for the marks on the Prince’s wrist and neck, and the wounds on his head. Elrond prodded each of these in turn for grave injury, and finding nothing serious, let his unwilling patient move away from him.

Estel knew what answer they would receive when Elrond asked the laegel, “Why did you not mention these bruises before, Legolas? Why not tell us that your Ada hit you?”

As expected, the wretched Wood-Elf claimed, “Because I do not remember, Minyatar. I do not believe Ada hit me at all.” The Elf almost replaced his undershirt, but then thought better of it and walked to the chest at the end of his bed to get a different one. He threw the one he’d worn the night previous and all this day into the basket in the corner. The Peredhel healer and human watched Legolas grimace in soreness as he dropped to his knees before the chest. “And yet I have no explanation for these bruises.”

“Who else would have hit you, young one?” the healer asked, settling on the couch just where Legolas had been sitting.

“I do not know,” the Elf said again, sounding more dejected by the moment. He found a new shirt to wear and pulled it on. “I told Estel this morning that it could be some injury from our scuffling yesterday on the training fields, or perhaps I injured myself somehow while drunk last night. I do not remember acquiring these bruises at all.”

Estel received a scowl from his father, who was not at all pleased to learn that the Ranger had known of Legolas’ condition and not told the master healer of it, but the human was too engaged in his thoughts to notice. _These could have indeed been made yesterday while we trained on the fields, though it still does not explain why they did not show or pain him until this morning, nor why there was no sign of them during our bath._ The last excuse that Legolas gave did not sound as if the Prince himself believed it could be true, but given all that the Prince already did not remember, Estel had to entertain the notion that Legolas could have somehow caused the bruises himself, as well.

“And the sores upon your head? What made those, Legolas?” the Ranger asked. Neither his father nor the Prince knew that he had found the crown in Thranduil’s floor, so neither had a good explanation for this. He continued to keep it to himself, hoping to allay any misgivings of the Prince that he could. Perhaps he should have told them, but the Ranger decided to keep his finding the crown to himself for now.

“I cannot remember. I do not know,” the Silvan repeated, as he had been telling them continually that day to every question they put to him. The Wood-Elf sat upon his bed and quickly changed the subject, asking his Minyatar, “What can we do for my father? Is there nothing that will wake him?”

A knock upon the door interrupted them. Aragorn saw to their visitor, hoping that it was just their food and not one of the sentries with bad news of the King. It was indeed a servant bearing a tray, which Estel took from the she-Elf. He made his thanks to her and shut the door while trying to listen to the conversation that had not stopped during this. He took a plate from the tray, handed it to Legolas, and then gave another to his foster father.

“The twins are researching his malady, in the hopes that we might find some tale of similar circumstances, and I have been helping them between seeing to the other ill and other issues, as well.” Accepting his plate from Estel, the Elf Lord sat it on the couch beside him, disregarding it for the time being. “There is little that we can do for your father now, Greenleaf. We can keep him comfortable, and if his body continues to respond to being touched and moved, as it seems to be doing, then perhaps we will be able to give him some water or broth if he swallows by instinct. And we can wait, and we can hope. We can hope that Elrohir and Elladan are successful in their search, or that your father wakes of his own accord.”

Legolas sat his untouched plate on the bedspread, where the hunk of warm, crusty bread thereon rolled from its place beside the boiled, cold chicken and into the floor. The Prince, neat to a fault, did not even notice. The Ranger watched his lover stare absently out the balcony doors; the full panes of glass allowed the three a beautiful view of the valley outside, should any of them have been in the mood to appreciate it.

“What has happened, Minyatar? Why can I not remember?”

The Elf Lord rose from the couch to remove the laegel’s untouched plate from the bed to place it on the couch beside his own, and then sat on the bed next to Legolas. He wrapped his long arm around the Wood-Elf’s shoulders in fatherly comfort, admitting, “I have no answer for you, Greenleaf, except to say that whatever is the cause of your father’s condition, it lies in what you cannot recall.”

Dropping his head to stare at the floor at his feet, the Prince was ostensibly humbled by this. They sat there for a few brief moments, none of them partaking of the meal brought to them, and none speaking, until Legolas stood hurriedly, telling them, “I have been gone too long. I must check on my father.”

“I will be there in a moment,” the Ranger promised the Prince, who nodded and continued his rush out of the room.

They let the Wood-Elf leave without complaint. It would take many more missed meals before they began to worry over the Prince’s health and both healers had intended for this diversion to check on Legolas’ welfare, not necessarily for him to eat.

Aragorn was hungry, even if no one else was, and so grabbed the bread on his plate to shove the cold, boneless chicken into the soft inside of the small loaf. He moved to stand at the fireplace to eat this mashed together meal.

He asked his father between bites, “Can you not use vilya to wake Thranduil?”

Patiently, Elrond explained, “If I waken Thranduil using the magic of vilya, then we will not know what has caused his slumber, unlike if we use the tonic your brothers are even now creating, which if it works, will tell us much about whether it is sorrow or some physical ill that has caused this.” The Noldo gave his human son a fleeting smile, promising him, “If his condition worsens, or if he doesn’t waken and is in danger of starving to death, then I will intervene.”

“But Greenleaf is suffering now because of it,” the human argued in return. He cared more that Legolas was well than he cared that the King woke, but since the two were tied together, he inquired of his father, “Wouldn’t it be better if Thranduil just woke and told us what happened?”

“I don’t think it will be that easy. Estel,” his father chastised him gently, reminding the human, “I cannot merely use magic to erase all the ills of the world. Events must play out on their own.”

Being that the Ranger had heard this lecture before, he nodded his head eagerly to stave off hearing it again. But in the silence that followed, Estel’s ire grew. He could not stop thinking of how abject and sorrowful his lover looked. It had only been a day of them waiting by the King’s bedside and already the Prince was falling back into his own dolor, especially considering that all thought him to be the culprit of unspecified wrongdoings. Indeed, Thranduil had been in Rivendell just over one full day and already he was upsetting the salubrious balance that the Adan, twins, and their father had been trying to maintain for Legolas.

 _If not Thranduil, then the Mirkwood sentries will be the reason for Greenleaf’s relapse._ He voiced aloud to his father, who sat staring thoughtfully at the Prince's forgotten dish of food, “If this is some plan of Thranduil’s to cause Legolas grief, and if the King continues this farce, I fear our Greenleaf will not live through it.”

His foster father’s head snapped up, his brow furrowed in sincere confusion, which was an unusual occurrence upon the Imladrian’s face. “What makes you think this is some affectation on Thranduil’s part?” the Peredhel asked, truly surprised by his human son’s suspicion.

He had no reason for thinking this, other than his intense dislike of the King and steadfast belief that Thranduil would do anything to both hurt his son and keep control of him.

Receiving no answer, Elrond placed his full plate along with Legolas’ on the tray, advising, “I do not think that Thranduil could fake such a deep sleep, Estel, nor do I see why he would. No, the grounds for his condition will be known once Legolas remembers or Thranduil wakens. I just hope that Legolas is not at fault. Even if he acted in defense during his father’s violence towards him, either Thranduil will hold him responsible when he wakes or the Mirkwood sentries will whether their King wakes or not, and of course, Legolas will never forgive himself for it either way,” Elrond told his human son, unwittingly echoing the same logic that the Ranger had been pondering all evening.

Aragorn finished the last of his bread and paced, his agitation not allowing him to stand still for long. “I do not care if Legolas has done this,” he told his father, irritated with the Elf Lord though he had little motive to be. Elrond had said nothing that Estel had not already thought himself, but hearing the Noldo say it aloud only solidified how dire the situation seemed. “You have seen what damage Thranduil has done to Legolas, and not just last night,” he charged, referring to the state in which the laegel arrived in Rivendell months ago. “If Legolas is at fault for Thranduil’s strange slumber, then it is much less than what he deserves for causing Greenleaf so much pain over the years.”

“Hold your tongue,” the Elf Lord told his son harshly. He stood from the bed and walked to where Aragorn had stopped his pacing in front of the dead fireplace. “This is not the opportune time for spouting invectives about Thranduil, Estel! Already the Wood-Elves blame their own Prince – do you think they would not hesitate to find some way to blame you, as well, or in place of Legolas?”

“I would rather it be so.” He walked away from his father towards the door. Legolas would be alone in the King’s guest room, with none but the comatose Thranduil and his fellow mistrustful Wood-Elves for company. He was not about to allow any of them to be the cause of further sorrow for the Prince, and said as much to his father, “I will not let his own people lay the blame on him when he likely only did as anyone would to protect himself. I would take the blame for this, if I had some way to do so. I would do anything to keep Legolas from more despair.”

Catching his human son by the arm before Estel could leave, Elrond held tight to it, shaking the limb slightly and repeating, “Hold your tongue, Estel.”

“If it weren’t for Legolas, if I didn’t know how grieved he would be should it be so, I would hope that his father would never waken,” the Ranger spat bitterly, letting loose the worst of his fury at Thranduil to one of the few people to whom he would ever admit it.

With this said, Aragorn strode from the room, on his way back to Thranduil’s, his heart no less heavy with burden after having spoken to his father.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_If Ada does not waken to tell them what has happened, I will likely end up at the end of Ninan’s sword, or cast out of Elvendom forever. But if Ada does not waken, I would happily be at the end of Ninan’s sword._

Much like Aragorn, Legolas’ heart had been eased little by talking to Elrond. In fact, the Wood-Elf had not felt so responsible until now. Although his Minyatar had not come right out and accused the Silvan, it was all the same to Legolas, who did not need blunt allegations to know that everyone held him at fault. He was the last to have seen his father, he had kept Ninan from disturbing the King when the sentry might otherwise have learnt of the King’s condition earlier, and he was unable to recall anything of what happened in order to aid his father.

When walking past one of the carved window-like openings of the corridor, he stopped to look outside, to enjoy for a moment the cool night air and the soft sounds of the insects buzzing and chirping in the grass of the gardens below. While in his rooms, the sun had begun to set and he could see now that the Imladrians were heading for their homes earlier than usual tonight, perhaps because they were all recovering from the long feast and heavy drinking of the evening before. It seemed such a beautiful night and the Prince protested dourly, _It should be raining or storming. The night should not be allowed to feel so fine. Not tonight._

He shook his head then reached up to rub it. His head still ached. Beginning with a dull throb at the base of his skull, the pain pulsated rapidly, spreading and increasing with each breath he took. Whereas he had expected this strange headache to fade or cease altogether as the day went on, it had only grown. He placed his forehead against the cold rock of the wall beside the window.

 _If Ada is entrenched in sorrow, then it is only because of Estel_ , the charm-addled part of his thinking told him, and the Prince nodded in agreement despite this thought being contrary to his true feelings on the matter. As he nodded, his forehead was scratched pleasantly by the chilled wall. He closed his eyes and let the cool stone soothe his aching head. _It is Estel that my father abhors. He provoked Ada at the banquet. He provokes Ada just to amuse himself, I think._

Without truly knowing to where he wandered, and by instinct avoiding the attention of the guards, guards who were not usually called to stand sentry in such numbers in the Last Homely House, Legolas walked away from his father’s rooms, and thus his task of overseeing his sleeping Ada, and towards the south of the house. Here, there were no extra guards, for the sentries had been stationed where the King was staying, not throughout the entire residence. No more sentinels than usual patrolled the Last Homely House, and these were accustomed to the Prince wandering the halls with free rein, as he'd been doing it for millennia.

He trailed his hand along the bannister of the staircase as he ascended the stairs to the third floor of the house, close to where the back entrance to the library was located. _He is ashamed that even after I was attacked by humans in Lake-town and then in the woods, still I whore myself to another human._

The vicious supposition, instilled in his mind by Mithfindl, caused the Wood-Elf’s chest to seize in panicked grief. For months now, Legolas had fought against such ideations that the very vocal umbrage of his sorrow had so often supplied him through the mar upon his thigh. To hear it so casually uttered in his own mind, and not by the otherness of the scar, cut the Silvan to the quick. All the love and attention from his family and friends, from Estel, in these past months was at once reduced to nothing. He had betrayed his father, he had flaunted his love for a human to humiliate Thranduil amongst their own people and the Noldor, and even though his King had wanted to forgive and forget, his father had not been able to relinquish the disgrace of having such a disgusting son.

Feeling an urge that he could not explain and was not truly aware of, Legolas walked around behind the stairs. Nestled behind the stairwell, where few would even see it, was the room he unknowingly sought – the Prince had never been inside, but had always assumed it to be storage. He had not been followed nor had anyone taken especial note of his presence, although his care to see that this was the case was not foremost on his mind but again by instinct to adhere to the command he was given.

 _It is no wonder that Ada is mired in grief._ _Ada is ashamed of me, I am sure of it,_ the laegel told himself.

He twisted the knob of the door.


	18. Chapter 18

He had no more than tried to turn the locked knob once than the door swung open and a hand latched onto his arm. Legolas found himself hauled into a small room, lightless save for a dimmed lamp. Made to fit under the wide stone stairs overhead, the room had an angled roof that tapered into a narrow point at its far end. At one time, perhaps this room had been used for storage, but currently there was nothing there except the sputtering oil lamp, a broken chair without seat that lay on its side, and a Noldorin warrior who grinned nervously at him. As soon as Mithfindl had pulled Legolas out of the way, the door was pushed into its jamb with silent albeit hurried movements.

Through his sluggish and pained mind, for his aching head seemed only to be getting worse, the Wood-Elf found himself thinking, _Why have I come here?_

Mithfindl grabbed each of Legolas’ arms, and with this hold, pressed the laegel down upon the fusty floor until the Prince was sitting on his heels. It took only a few moments for all this to happen – Legolas being jostled by the warrior from the hall to the floor – but in this time, Legolas noticed that Mithfindl had turned to look back to the door a half dozen times. He found himself thinking, _Does he expect someone? Why is he even here in this room?_ Thinking this made the Elf wonder as well, when a bothersome idea reoccurred to him that he didn’t know why he was this room, either, _He seemed to expect_ _my coming._

“Sit,” the warrior ordered, although Legolas was in fact already seated. Leaving the laegel on the stone floor, Mithfindl continued to speak in an unaffected and genial manner, which was undermined by his frantic gesticulations and anxious demeanor. “Let me get you some wine, Prince.”

Mithfindl made his way to the chair in the corner, reaching behind the slatted back to fiddle with an already opened bottle and a ceramic cup.

“Did anyone follow you? Were you seen coming here?”

Legolas tried to remember if he had been followed ere the strangeness of this question hit him, and he frowned at Mithfindl. Intending to ask the warrior why this mattered, the laegel was reminded again that he was with the hated Noldo who had once accosted him in the forest around Rivendell and did not know why he had come here or why Mithfindl had been waiting for him. He had seen Mithfindl the night before but due to the same imprecated charm and Noldo’s commands that had compelled him here, Legolas had no memory of seeing Mithfindl in his father’s guest chambers. In an apprehensive rush, the confused Prince leapt from the floor, focused on reaching the door and being free of Mithfindl’s company, and later trying to figure out the whys and hows. For now, he only knew that he should not be here. He didn’t fear the Noldo but he had other matters to which to attend, foremost of which was returning to his King, and didn’t want to waste time bandying insults or small talk with Mithfindl, of all Elves.

“Are you thirsty, Legolas? Would you care for some wine?” the warrior asked, coming to stand before the Prince before the laegel could escape. One second the Prince intended to leave, but in the next, before Legolas could take the few steps necessary to reach the door, the Noldo’s hand shot out to clear the space between them, his fingers clasping the back of Legolas’ neck and lighting precisely on the small stone tied deep within his hair. Holding out the chipped and well-worn tumbler to the Wood-Elf, Mithfindl demanded with all subterfuge of pleasantness absent, “Sit. Drink. You are thirsty.”

Immediately, Legolas dropped back down to the floor. He stuck his hand out for the tumbler. Not thirsty in the least, the laegel answered as the periapt told him to, as Mithfindl had instructed. “Yes,” he whispered, taking the cup with great care not to spill it, for it was full to its top. “I am thirsty.”

“Drink,” Mithfindl asked of Legolas, repeating his order too late, for the obeisant Prince had already downed half the tumbler.

The sizzling lamp, its wick putting off tendrils of smoke where it was not fully saturated in the oil, barely illuminated the dusty, forgotten storage room. Stacked stones that formed columns upon which the stairs were supported were interspersed throughout what open area there was in the slight space. Although the door was of mere wood, with the thick rock of the valley under, above, and around them, there was no sound at all coming from outside. Few people came through this hallway unless they were one of the busy household servants that sometimes used the narrower back staircases instead of the wider and more accessible front ones, and those Elves were already on their way to their home or their quarters for the night, their daily duties completed. The bare rock floor was cold under the Wood-Elf’s knees and the air was so frowsty that he nearly sneezed into his cup of wine. None of these things did the Prince notice any longer. As instructed, he drank the liquid given him as if from his own volition; his thoughts were only on its imbibation.

Standing before the Silvan, the Noldo smiled down at him. With the bottle he held in hand, Mithfindl filled the Wood-Elf’s cup to its brim again, instructing the compliant laegel again, “Drink, Prince. The wine is good, is it not?”

Sating his odd desire to gulp the wine, Legolas nodded his agreement; he was too busy drinking to answer. Nectarous but also slightly amaroidal, like the fleshy core of an apple, the drug-imbued wine saturated the Elf’s thinking, doing as it had the night before and flooding him with bliss pure and whelming. He sat there for several minutes, taking another drink of his wine, which had become an endless cup, for every time Legolas gulped from it, Mithfindl would fill it again with the same strangely expectant smile adorning his face. His headache eased and then dissipated, making the Elf forget that it had ever actually plagued him. He swallowed the last of the wine in his tumbler, his belly full of the sickly warmth of the alcohol, but this in itself was pleasurable, also, and he closed his eyes as the dim room began to tilt and spin around him. The bottle Mithfindl held was not yet empty, and the height of the laegel’s pleasure was only increasing with the promise of more wine.

 _Perhaps I have had too much,_ he thought, though the idea didn’t bother him overly much. _I should return to Ada._

Soft as a lover’s touch, Mithfindl laid the palm of his hand against Legolas’ cheek and the other he used to seek out the bead he’d placed in the Wood-Elf’s hair. The Silvan found himself leaning into the touch, as the rough callus of the swordsman’s hand abraded his face. Just the tactile pleasure was sufficient to distract him from his misgivings over the Noldo. Having forgotten most of last night, he did not recall now his identification of the additive that Mithfindl had veiled in the wine. The milk of the poppy obliterated all his pains, worries, and inhibitions.

“You do not look well, Prince. Why do you not lie down?” the warrior suggested with his hand ever upon the impregnated periapt. Mithfindl did not wait for his answer ere he began to push the lethargic Wood-Elf onto his back. The tumbler Legolas held was empty, which was good, since his lax hand let it fall to the floor beside him.

Legolas closed his eyes, prompted into relaxing when the Noldo began to hum softly. Then, the warrior’s hand began to move across the fabric of the laegel’s shoulders. He lay there, letting Mithfindl stroke his face and neck. It was a wonderful sensation of comfort, and who it was that elicited this contentment did not seem to matter to the inebriated Legolas. With his eyes closed, Legolas did not even acknowledge the warrior’s existence. The hand moved from his neck to his chest, where it rested a moment upon his breast, above his heart.

“Sweet prince,” the warrior cooed as if speaking to a child, “I had begun to think you would not show tonight, that I would need to come find you. The charm you wear isn’t meant for Elves – it was once used for livestock, horses, and other beasts that require training. I told Faelthîr that a Wood-Elf was little more than an animal. She didn’t believe it would work.” Reaching over Legolas, Mithfindl sought something on the floor beside where the Wood-Elf laid. “It was hard enough to get a moment alone to place a charm on your father on his way here, much less keep him in enough poppy tincture to stay pliable without alerting his sentries. But you will be a better pet than the King would have. You will be much more fun to tame.”

Legolas opened his eyes as he listened. A growing presentiment of imminent calamity caused the Silvan to shift upon the ground. Although he heard Mithfindl’s strange locution, Legolas did not seem to comprehend why the Noldo was saying these odd things or of what he spoke; however, the Wood-Elf’s drug addled mind sobered some as Mithfindl’s mention of the King made the Prince think, _Ada. I must return to watch over Ada._ At once, he moved to sit, to return to his father.

“You are going nowhere. Not until I am through with you.” At the ready, the Noldo seized the Prince behind his neck, clamping down harshly against the bead ensconced in Legolas’ golden hair. Using his other hand to wrap around the laegel’s throat, he pushed the Silvan back to the floor. His strong fingers strangling the once more thralled Prince, Mithfindl kept his captive from both moving and breathing as he ordered, “Lie back and do not move until you are told.”

After that command was given, Legolas found that he could not move and his reason for wanting to leave the room was lost to him when the need for air overtook his thinking. As desperate as he was to thrash, to writhe his way out from under the Noldo’s hand around his neck, the younger Elf could not budge. When the Noldo finally freed the Prince’s throat, Legolas inhaled the much needed, stale air of the small room as quickly as his lungs could avail themselves of it. With the milk of the poppy obfuscating his thoughts and the periapt clouding his will, the laegel only laid on the stone floor in an accepting heap, his mind reeling with each gasping breath.

Laughing quietly at his new plaything, Mithfindl fumbled a moment behind the seat of the broken chair before producing a length of hemp twine. As he worked to unwind the thin but sturdy cord from its spool, the Noldo teased, “And I will enjoy breaking you in, only to reform you into something much more suitable. Much like how the human broke my nose, and now it is crooked; I shall break you and set you into something twisted.” Taking one of the Prince’s wrists in hand, Mithfindl rapidly wound and tied the rope forcefully around the laegel’s wrist, looped the twine around one of the stone columns that supported the weight of the staircase above, and then wrapped it about the Wood-Elf’s other wrist to tie it just as securely. So tightly did the Noldo wind the rope that it was only moments after finishing that Legolas began to lose feeling in his hands.

“I have wanted this for a very long time,” the warrior whispered, sitting back upon his heels to admire his handiwork. “Before the end of our long, unhappy future together, you will beg me for this, and rope will not be needed, because I will teach you to accept the agony as your lot in life. But for now, forgive me,” Mithfindl taunted quietly with his vindictive smirk, showing he had no true desire for Legolas’ exculpation, “because I cannot have you warning the whole household you are here by trying to get away, although it will be just as entertaining to watch you fight against the ropes with no hope of getting free.”

Legolas did not even care that he was bound, nor did he try to stop the warrior or free himself – he couldn’t have tried had he desired. He had been told to be still: still he remained. Even the Noldo’s words did not seem to sink into the haze clouding his thinking, and though Legolas understood that Mithfindl might mean to hurt him, for the moment, he found that he could not care.

His face suddenly becoming soft, the warrior ran his hand along the long and lean curve of the Prince’s clothed side, his hands trying the flesh there experimentally, watching Legolas as he touched him for some reaction or indication that the periapt was losing effect or that Legolas was less than docile. The poppy milk he’d been given was working swiftly on the Prince, the quantity he had drunk was more and the proportion of it to wine higher than the night previous, although not nearly as much as Mithfindl had given the Mirkwood King. The euphoria Legolas felt was mounting, bringing with it a tinge of fear to be feeling so fine when some part of him was still grounded in reality, bound to a column under an obscure stairway and at the mercy of Mithfindl. Wholly unable to act on this fear, the Wood-Elf could only lie there and listen.

“I heard that your father is ill, that he will not awaken from his slumber.” The hand fondling Legolas grew bolder and it slipped under his tunic, rubbing across the tight muscles of his belly. “I have heard that not even Elrond knows what has caused this malady.”

If Mithfindl wanted answers to these statements, the Wood-Elf was by order not capable of conversation. Having the Noldo’s hands massaging his skin was off-putting and Legolas tried to focus on what the warrior was telling him. In some way, lacking in carnal pleasure but abundant in corporeal comfort, Mithfindl’s touch was soothing to Legolas and he found himself relaxing once more, his distress abating.

“I even heard rumor today,” the warrior whispered, leaning over Legolas so that he could lewdly lave the Silvan’s ear with his tongue between words, “that his sentries fear that you have cast some magic spell on him.”

There was something wrong with this, he knew. After a few strokes of Mithfindl touching his belly, whatever sense that the Prince had retained balked against his submission to this perverseness. His disgust to be handled by the Noldo so intimately temporarily undermined the periapt’s hold on him. Legolas tried to roll to his side and away from the warrior, the familiar shame welling up inside him at the uninvited affection.

"Where will you go?" the Noldo asked glibly, his hand on the laegel's flesh, his fingers digging into Legolas’ already bruised chest, to keep the Elf from moving. When this did not prove to maintain the Wood-Elf’s prostrate position on the floor beside him, Mithfindl bounded to his knees and crawled upon them and over Legolas. With his hands tied tightly above his head with the hemp rope to the stone column and Mithfindl now straddling his thighs, there was no chance of his escape, even should he knock the Noldo off him. The hemp cord was too strong to break, the knots and winding rope too tight to slip his hands through, and the Noldo too quick to be avoided. "Who will have you now, Princeling? Are the King’s sentries’ heads not now filled with rumors that you are soon to be suspect as a kinslayer for poisoning your father? Or that you cause him such sorrow that he would rather fade than endure your reprehensible proclivities any longer?"

A momentary streak of understanding lit the laegel’s awareness and he saw through the haze of the milk of the poppy that fogged his thinking. _Ada,_ the Prince thought again, his constant worry for his father enough to renew his flagging resolve to escape.

“I want to taste you,” Mithfindl whispered with sudden excitement, fondling himself as he hastily began to untie the leather threaded at his groin, opening his leggings to expose his cock, which was full and flushed with desire. “And then I will take you hard and fast, as I’m sure the humans did when they turned you into their whore. And then the idiot Ranger had his turn. But now you are mine,” Mithfindl rambled, sliding his hand along his own shaft in prurient need.

So similar to Kane did the Noldo sound that the euphoria Legolas was feeling began to recede. The sight of the warrior handling his own shaft as he now scrabbled with his other hand to remove the ties to the Wood-Elf’s trousers caused Legolas to buck wildly. No coherency caused this reaction – the most basic gut reaction for self-preservation caused him to try to relieve himself of the warrior. Memories of the merchants, of the backroom in Lake-town, and of Kane in the guest room of his own home, weaved their way through his confusion, pulling together the wayward threads of his thought into a cohesive desire to end this. Mithfindl planned to rape him – Legolas might have been too intoxicated to understand all of the Noldo’s threats, but his faer did not need reason to come to this conclusion.

“Get…” he began, having every intention of ordering the warrior off him and scream for help. The Prince’s words were literally choked to a halt when hands wrapped steadfastly around his throat.

Mithfindl placed his face close to the Silvan’s face so that he could whisper, “Be quiet.”

Still the laegel struggled, though now his attention was focused on the hands strangling his already bruised and swollen throat, and he twisted his neck while lifting his hips from the floor to unseat the Noldo, but neither of these actions worked, and with the lack of air came a lack of cognition that once more allowed the opium tincture to cloud his mind. The longer that he was deprived of air, the quicker that Legolas’ body slowed to a halt, his mind no longer controlling it, no longer telling it to fight.

“Perhaps you need more wine?” the Noldo asked, smirking down at Legolas as he finally released his hold of the Prince’s throat. Sobbing in short inhales of air that were doing little to quell the creeping shadows of insentience tingeing his peripheral vision, the laegel then began to hack and cough, his chest heaving in the fight to breathe.

With a maleficent giggle and reaching to the floor beside them, where he’d left the mixture of spirits and poison, Mithfindl uncorked the bottle and held it out to Legolas, who with his hands tied obviously could not take it. The warrior laughed again and then held the Prince’s lower jaw open to pour the liquid into the Wood-Elf’s mouth. The Silvan guzzled it as quickly as he could to avoid drowning in it, despite that he still coughed and wheezed air into his lungs from Mithfindl’s mishandling. Some of the wine spilled down the sides of Legolas’ face before he could manage to swallow it. When the bottle was empty, the Noldo tossed it casually to the side, where it bounced along the floor to roll against the far wall.

Legolas had been poisoned before. What substance he was given now might have been different from the one that Cort and Sven had forced upon him in the woods those many months ago, but its effects were similar. His mind was silenced, his thoughts and worries abandoned, and the fear was gone. What was left of him was a body responding to the painkilling medicine by making him numb and instilling a euphory within his mind that inhibited his care. For months, Legolas had been trying to remedy this withering malady of being divided in two with his rhaw and faer at odds as each sought to survive his grief in different ways: in a few seconds time and choiceless from the drug, he had abandoned himself to the cleft wholeheartedly.

But again, when the Noldo began to remove the impediment of the Wood-Elf’s clothing – at least as much as needed so that he could finish what he had started – the familiar indignity of being attacked in this way incited his instinct to be rid of Mithfindl. He strove to get free, to pull at the coarse rope holding his wrists immobile, and his mouth once more opening to demand that he be released or to shout out for help to anyone passing near this part of the house. Seeing that his prey was not as quiescent as before, Mithfindl reached behind the laegel’s head for the secreted charm there, and pressing his fingers against it as he had several times already this night, the Noldo ordered, “Be still. Do not move. Do not speak.”

Growing increasingly intoxicated and now once again under the compelling periapt’s influence, Legolas’ struggles stilled into unmoving resignation. Mithfindl snickered at the easy victory, explaining with boastful arrogance, “On its own, this charm would have only a weak effect on an Elf, even a tree climbing heathen such as yourself, but the milk of the poppy flower makes you so much more malleable. Once you are accustomed to taking my orders and I beat the stubbornness from you, we can forgo the poppy.”

The Noldo renewed his task of untying the Silvan’s trousers until he had them loose and yanked them unceremoniously down to the laegel’s boots. Unsatisfied with only this, Mithfindl hiked Legolas’ tunic high on his chest, so that Legolas was exposed from chest to ankle to the Noldo’s view. Mithfindl took much time admiring the inert laegel, sitting back upon his heels again and looking covetously upon the Wood-Elf’s flesh with lusty approbation.

“These bruises are beautiful on you,” the warrior finally said, admiring his handiwork from the night before. Beginning with the peaks of pale rose upon the otherwise alabaster, muscled chest of his captive, Mithfindl ran his rough hands down Legolas’ torso, across the slight concave of his belly and slim hips, moving slowly across the trembling flesh of the laegel’s legs and to his calves. He then turned his attention back to the myriad, slowly healing scars upon the Wood-Elf’s thigh. Grunting quietly, the Noldo fondled the skin there, which seemed to have once been shattered and now was gradually reforming. “And here it is,” the Noldo said, scraping his fingernails across the still sensitive skin. With his knuckles, Mithfindl viciously dug into the tormented muscle underneath, bearing his weight down upon the tender wound. “The proof of just how demented you truly are.”

Legolas’ breath caught in his tortured, injured throat. He wanted to scream at the agony of having his thigh abused so, and would have, had he not been told to remain silent. Even his small, nearly inaudible gasp of suffering was enough for Mithfindl, whose smile widened in pleasure to know that he had caused the laegel pain.

“Spread your legs,” he told the laegel, pushing the Wood-Elf’s thighs askance even as he asked. With a lecherous lick of his lips, Mithfindl demanded, “Show me what causes the Ranger to follow you around like you’re a bitch in heat.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Expecting to find the laegel in his father’s rooms waiting beside the bed, the Ranger barely spoke to the sentries who watched him charily as he went inside to find the Prince. The Elf was not there – inside the bedchambers, there was only Thranduil, lying upon the bed as quiet and peaceful as he had been all day. Now that it was night, the King seemed less ill than he had earlier, when during the sunlit hours the elder Wood-Elf should have been about and active. Looking down at Thranduil – torpid and pale in his bed – the human decided that he would rather have the King awake, even if it meant he was on one his tirades. As much as he hated Thranduil for his continual torment of Legolas, the laegel still loved his father and Estel did not want his Greenleaf to suffer anymore.

 _He is not here,_ the Ranger worried, his thoughts turning back to his absent lover. _He said he was coming to sit with Thranduil. Where would he have gone rather than keep vigil?_

Despite their differences, Legolas would not leave his father’s side until the King awoke. Indeed, the Prince had only just told Elrond and Aragorn that he had been away from Thranduil long enough and had left their company to come back to this room. He sat for a few moments in the seat that the Prince had earlier sat in, not watching Thranduil, but the door, where a sentry was unabashedly staring into the bedchamber, though whether he was watching the King or Estel, the Ranger wasn’t sure. As he fiddled with the sleeve of his tunic, the human turned his head to stare out the window to watch the sky darken. He had not even made it outside the Last Homely House today, had not changed from his clothing or bathed, and had only left this room twice – once to tend his personal needs, and once with Legolas to try to convince the Elf to eat.

Thoughts of the night outside led him to thinking of their hunting trip and its dismal abandonment, and he found himself deciding boorishly of the strange sickness that plagued the King, _Thranduil would have ruined it had we gone, anyway, just as he has ruined it now._ Feeling guilty for this, he turned his mind instead to thinking of how this had happened. _We have assumed that it was grief that is causing this, or that Legolas has harmed his father in some way, but we are forgetting that there are others in the valley that might benefit from Thranduil’s malady, or his demise._

Even still, Aragorn could think of no one that would benefit from this occurrence. What good would the King be to anyone if he were unconscious as he was? This was Imladris, not Eryn Galen, and Aragorn was fairly sure that anyone who had any interest in Thranduil here in the valley would have only monetary interest in the King of Mirkwood. Thranduil had wealth hidden in his halls that no one knew the extent of and any Elf, Adan, or Dwarf with ambition would desire to obtain some of it. However, short of stealing into the nearly impenetrable mountain stronghold of the Wood-Elves, and then finding and absconding with the King’s riches, which was a suicidal task, most greedy folk who desired a share of Thranduil’s treasure did so by trade. In fact, the abhorrent merchant Kane had held sway over the other traders and citizens of Lake-town because of the gold he had obtained by being the supplier of much of the King’s personal wine. It made sense that even here in Imladris there were those who would aspire to contract trade agreements with Thranduil – trade agreements could only be made with a sentient King, however. The most that any could hope for in regards to Thranduil in his current predicament would be that the King would die, and unless someone held some grudge against the King that wished for that very end, there would be no point in causing Thranduil’s strange sleep.

Shifting in his seat so that he could try to see past the sentries and into the hallway in case the Prince should walk by, the human thought, _Whoever has done this to Thranduil, if it is not grief and not Legolas’ doing, has done this for revenge or spite, not out of greed._ Without Legolas there to keep him distracted with his worry over the Prince, but trying to distract _himself_ from his worry for the Prince, Estel leant forward in his chair. If he thought about it long enough, he would apprehend what occurred here; he could cipher this puzzle. _They could just have easily slit his throat or poisoned him._ _Unless it is not Thranduil they seek their retaliation against, but Legolas,_ his weary mind conjured for him, and this incited him into thinking, _and if someone were trying to hurt Legolas, then this would be one way to accomplish that._

No one could be expected to be well liked by everyone: Legolas was no exception, but there was only one Elf in the entire valley with madness and hatred enough to attempt such a scheme, whatever that scheme may be.

_Glorfindel only just warned me of him last night at the feast._

Feeling the need to stand, to walk, to move, and more importantly, to find Mithfindl and perhaps beat the answers out of him, regardless that he had no proof nor true reason for his thinking the Noldorin warrior had anything to do with this, Aragorn began to fidget. His jaw tensed and relaxed, his fingers rapped against his knees, and even his toes curled and uncurled inside his boots, so great was his disturbance. His gut told him that his thinking was right, and yet, despite these cogitations, it seemed too far-fetched to Aragorn that Mithfindl would attempt such a thing, besides the fact that the Noldo had been given no chance last night to perpetrate any ill against Thranduil. At the feast, the wine and food had been served to everyone, not just Thranduil, and the King had his choice of any number of cups or forks or knives – it would have been impossible for anyone to poison Thranduil at the feast and not chance poisoning someone else. After the feast, Legolas had been the only other person with the King so Mithfindl would have had no chance then, either.

 _Glorfindel told me that Mithfindl’s life here in the valley has been difficult since I pummeled him by the training fields._ Holding his head between his hands, and rubbing roughly his forehead, he blew out a stale, restless breath, and dismissed his suspicions along with his agitated fidgeting, saying to himself, _There must be a simpler explanation for this. Besides, how could Mithfindl have even accomplished such a thing? He may be trying to worm his way into Thranduil’s good graces, but poisoning him senseless does nothing for his chances at gaining a position in Thranduil’s court. I am certain that Mithfindl may seek revenge against me, but he does me no harm by rendering Thranduil unconscious._

“Estel,” Kalin greeted without his usual cheer, startling the human and breaking his contemplation. Coming to stand at the foot of the bed, the sentry shook his head to himself at the sight of his King lying abed with no awareness to detect even the beings around him. “His condition does not change.”

It was not a question, but the Ranger felt compelled to answer, “It does not change.” Quiet again for a moment, he thought to ask Kalin, “Have you seen Legolas? He was supposed to be here.”

Both fair brows on the sentry’s head lifted, before his melancholy demeanor for his King shifted to anxiety for his Prince. “I have not seen him,” the Silvan responded, standing straighter and becoming instantly more attentive. Estel did not know Kalin well, but he admired the sentry greatly due to how steadfast Kalin was in protection of the Prince, which was an aim shared by the Ranger, as well. The Wood-Elf asked, “How long since last you saw him?”

“Less than an hour has past, Kalin,” he assured, although he felt the same unease as the sentry. Legolas had made great progress during his time in Imladris, but both knew that it would not take much for the Prince to fall into despair again in dire circumstances such as these. “But when last I saw him, he said he was coming back here, and he is not here.”

The sentry strode with purpose to the sitting room adjoining the King’s bedroom, where several sentries were waiting – for what they were waiting, the sentries did not know. Like all the King’s guards, this was one of the few times their stations had been called into service outside of battle, and none of them, it seemed to Aragorn, knew quite how to act now that they were called to actually protect the King from some threat, intangible though it was.

“Where is he?” Kalin asked, as if all in the room knew just of whom he spoke. Of course, they had heard every word of the sentry and Ranger’s conversation, so in fact knew just of whom Kalin was asking.

From the hallway outside, Ninan stuck his head in the doorway to tell them, “Prince Legolas has not returned since he left with Estel and Lord Elrond a while ago. He has not walked down this hallway, at least.”

Amongst the other Mirkwood sentries, only Kalin seemed concerned that the Prince was not there, as he could sense the Ranger’s latent agitation at this news, for if the human had some reason to fear for the laegel’s well-being, then Legolas’ safety was likely in question. He offered, “Come. I will help you look for the Prince.”

Kalin walked out of the room with the clear expectation that Estel was to follow. And follow he did, as he was determined to find his wayward lover. It was unlike the Wood-Elf to be evasive, or at least he had not been so over the last few months of his time healing here in the valley. The human could only hope that the Prince had some viable reason for his disappearance, other than what the Ranger worried for, which was that the laegel was alone and overcome by misery or hearing the scar’s accusations once more. The latter he feared most of all. After two months going by without his grieving faer tormenting the Prince with vociferating sorrow, Estel hoped that now, so soon after resuming their corporeal pleasure with each other, the scar would not return under the stress of Thranduil’s comatose condition. The Ranger could not bear to think that the physical release the two lovers had shared had once again hindered Legolas’ recovery.

“If he returns here, ask him to wait for us,” Kalin told Ninan and the guards around as they left, all of whom nodded that they would.

Leading the Ranger away from the sentries on guard of the corridor, Kalin stopped short of the family hallway, motioning with his head for Aragorn to follow him into an empty alcove. The human walked far inside the shadowy space with the sentry so that they stood away from the opening and thus as far away from being overheard. Near a bench and beside a jarred plant did they stop. The fair Wood-Elf whispered, glancing back to the hallway beyond in nervousness, “I have been meaning to speak with you alone, Estel. What of Legolas?”

 _Kalin will find out, and he will be furious that no one told him,_ Aragorn thought of the Prince’s bruises, watching as the sentry’s trepidation mounted the longer that it took Estel to answer. He decided to be truthful to Kalin – the sentry had been a good friend to Legolas and for much longer than the Ranger had known the Prince. It would do more good than harm for the sentry to be informed and if Kalin were mistrustful of his Prince, then he would at least give Kalin the cause behind Legolas’ alleged misdeeds. Perhaps the sentry was holding his suspicions of his Prince, but Aragorn would not listen to any accusations made against Legolas, not even when made by one of the laegel’s closest friends, and so sought to dispute Kalin’s charges before the sentry had even voiced them.

“What of Legolas?” he parroted quietly. Falling onto the hard, maple bench along the wall, Aragorn sighed just as heavily as he sat. “Greenleaf came back to his rooms last night not himself. When we awoke this morning, I found that he had bruises on his chest, his arm, and around his throat. Legolas says that he remembers nothing, and I believe this to be true.”

Kalin frowned, his unlined brow wrinkling at this information. Aragorn could tell that the sentry was immediately more worried about his Prince than before and without being told of Estel’s thoughts as to the cause of those bruises, he could tell that Kalin assumed Thranduil was the origin. “That’s not of what I spoke, but it is good to know nonetheless.” Crossing his arms over his chest as he sat beside Estel, the sentry thought better of his words and amended, “Well, not good to know, but necessary.”

Together sentry and Ranger ruminated in silence, their thoughts both on Legolas, but of different concerns. Kalin asked for confirmation, “How badly is he hurt, Estel? You believe Thranduil has done this?”

“They are not grievous bruises,” he answered, but then stopped before admitting that he blamed Thranduil, too. Anything he might say could be damning to the laegel – before he spoke frankly with the sentry, he would need to know what Kalin thought of his charge, and by whose side he would stand should the worst come to pass and Legolas indeed be guilty in some way of the King’s condition. Aragorn had his own doubts of his lover’s innocence, but the reasons behind his actions, should he prove to be the culprit, would be paramount to his deeds. Not everyone would agree. So instead, the Ranger asked his own questions. “They think he has done this, do they not? Without even knowing of what the King suffers, the other Wood-Elves think that Legolas is the reason?

He thought then to tell Kalin of what he had decided earlier, of his suspicions that Thranduil had been poisoned, that the Woodland sovereign suffered from something more sinister than grief or some hidden injury that his son supposedly perpetrated against him. He remained quiet.

“You must understand, Estel,” the sentry finally said, speaking deliberately, “that Thranduil is our _King._ It does not matter what has caused this or who…Ninan and the others are protecting their sovereign, as they should. No harm is meant for Legolas, but they will watch him, and whisper their thoughts behind his back, and until Thranduil awakes and Legolas is cleared, it will be so. Should myself or Ninan or you or anyone else be the suspected culprit, then they would be acting the same towards a different person. They seek only to do their duty to protect Thranduil. They mean Legolas no harm,” Kalin repeated, as if trying to reassure them both of this.

“See to it, then, that you do the same, should the time come, for your own charge,” he whispered, getting closer to the Wood-Elf to keep their conversation secret. “See to it that you protect him.”

They sat in silence for a few moments more, the sentry not acknowledging the Ranger's statement, although the man did not need Kalin's agreement to know that the sentry would protect his Prince above anyone else. Estel had heard from Legolas the story of how Kalin had stood up to his King in safeguard of the Prince, risking being charged with treason in his efforts to save Greenleaf from further bodily harm and perchance death by Thranduil’s own hands – the Ranger did not doubt Kalin’s devotion. Aragorn's thoughts turned back to Legolas.

_Then everyone believes that Greenleaf is the cause._

“What do you think?” the sentry asked again, explaining himself in adding, “Of Legolas’ whereabouts. Did he not just go with you and Lord Elrond to eat? Where could he have gone?”

“Yes, but I do not know where he is gone, now,” the Ranger told the sentry. “He is in Imladris. He cannot go far without running into one of the twins, or my father, or Glorfindel, Erestor, whomever – nothing ill can come of his being alone for a while here in the valley.”

Taking this assurance to heart, Kalin nodded his agreement, neither of them thinking of Mithfindl, but both still worried over the scar, and what part it had played and might still play in the discord between Thranduil and Thranduilion.

“I hope you are right,” Kalin said to himself, crossing his arms over his chest again, letting his long legs stretch out before him, and laying his head against the stone wall with a sigh. “Because I fear for him.” 


	19. Chapter 19

Having pushed apart the laegel’s legs, Mithfindl ran his hands up the Wood-Elf’s skin again, this time caressing the inside of Legolas’ strong thighs. Under the direction of the Noldo’s will, the Prince could not close his legs to stop Mithfindl as he reached the juncture of the laegel’s limbs – he could only watch the Noldo’s face growing evermore lewd while Mithfindl groped along his clandestine flesh, the fingers of one hand sliding between the globes of the Silvan’s rear and his other hand tight around the downy sacs under Legolas’ flaccid shaft. Mithfindl laughed down at the Wood-Elf, while Legolas couldn’t even squirm at the further abuse. He found he could close his eyes, but his fright kept them wide open.

Mithfindl ceased immediately, his hands flying away from Legolas when they both heard the sound of the doorknob as it was turned. Luckily, the Noldo had turned the simple lock, but if anyone were outside and truly wanted in, they could easily force the portal open with a strong enough shove. The Noldo pushed together the laegel’s legs and swiftly brought his long tunic down to cover most of his body. Grabbing the hair at the back of the Wood-Elf’s neck, he twisted Legolas’ head upwards so that he was face to face with the laegel. He warned the Prince in a voice so soft none outside could have heard it, “A single sound, whore, and I will relieve you of your tongue.”

The knob was turned again, this time jiggled as the person outside attempted to enter. Mithfindl pressed his engorged shaft back into his leggings as he quickly trod the few steps to the door. Lying where he had been told to remain, the Prince watched silently as Mithfindl placed his ear upon the door to hear what was going on outside the room. Whatever or whoever he heard caused the Noldo to curse softly, before he flicked the lock to allow entrance.

“By Valar, you are early!” the warrior complained in a hiss, his voice growing closer as he pulled someone into the room and close to where Legolas lay exposed, unmoving, and terrorized. Sighing in relief, the Noldo continued, “I assumed it was you, Faelthîr, but you nearly caused my heart to stop beating!”

 _Faelthîr?_ From where he laid, Legolas could just see the healer’s dark hair and had caught only a glimpse of her face, but hearing the name from Mithfindl, he was surprised to know that Kalin’s newfound lover was now within the room. Moreover, this was no chance meeting: Mithfindl had expected her.

The she-Elf sighed softly. Although he could not see it, the laegel heard her explain of what she’d brought with her, telling the warrior, “I have brought more, like you asked.” Legolas heard the healer gasp, and knew that she had only just seen him, sprawled out mostly naked on the stone floor, his hands tied above his head. For a moment, the unwillingly silent laegel held hope that she would help him. He could not ask for help, could not struggle or give sign that he was captive, under some spell and inebriated from the very tincture that she had brought to Mithfindl. His hopes were soon dashed when he heard her condemn, “Mithfindl, you idiot. You said you would wait to have your fun with him until we were out of the valley!”

He heard the clink of the containers as they were passed to Mithfindl, and could almost imagine the scene as it occurred, though they stood behind one of the stone columns and he was unable to view the two. Had he the ability, the laegel might have wept in frustration. Not only was he trapped here in this room, being accosted by Mithfindl, but also, so far his only chance at help was in alliance with his attacker. Only the treacherous poppy elixir kept him from giving way entirely to horror, but the drug also kept him silent and still when otherwise he might have chanced to fight back.

“Don’t fret,” Mithfindl told the she-Elf, slipping the phials into his tunic’s pocket.

“Don’t fret?” Faelthîr walked around the stone column to peek at Legolas, before quickly stepping back behind it to hide from him, as if he had not already seen her or would forget that she was there. “What have you done? We had a plan, Mithfindl, and you are ruining it.”

The warrior repeated, “Do not fret, for I have found a different means to our end.” Mithfindl snickered, his voice growing louder as he walked closer to Legolas. “I did just as we agreed. The King has a charm upon him, but I used the second on this one, not the King’s sentry Ninan,” Mithfindl explained to Faelthîr, pointing at Legolas, who felt much like the broken chair in the room – that is, merely an object. “Besides, you didn’t even need Ninan; you beguiled Kalin quick enough and without the need for a charm.”

They also spoke of the Wood-Elf as if he would not remember their conversation, which is when the laegel, whose rationality was slowly waxing as the drug in his system waned, realized with befuddlement, _I can remember nothing of last night, and somehow, Mithfindl is responsible._ His fear for the promise of more of Mithfindl’s molestation caused the milk of the poppy and wine to turn sour in his stomach, and his belly began to heave. Somehow, he had been in the Noldo’s presence the night before, which was when the Noldo had not only made him forget but also placed some bewitched amulet upon him to keep him pliant. _I can recall nothing of this,_ he worried, which led him to believe that the charm and the drug had worked as Mithfindl had planned. _What happened last night? Did he poison my father just as he has me?_

“Are you insane?” the she-Elf asked her conspirator in a harsh whisper. Grabbing the warrior’s arm, she pushed and tugged at Mithfindl as if she could shake some sense into him. “You will ruin this for us. First, you almost kill Thranduil by giving him too much, and then you bring this one here and risk being caught! This is not what we agreed. You were supposed to put the King under your will, not the Prince. And now you have caused uproar amongst the Silvan.”

“The Prince is as docile as an Elfling,” the Noldorin warrior assured, adding with a smirk as he stepped away from Faelthîr so that he could get a good look at the Wood-Elf lying on the floor, “and as willing as a whore. I gave him enough poppy milk to keep him quiet and your charm keeps him from moving a muscle. Besides,” he continued, his eyes traveling over Legolas’ body because his hands currently could not, “we can still make this work. Thranduil will waken, and then both King and Prince will be at our mercy.”

The she-Elf was obviously not appeased. Legolas may not have been able to see it but he could hear Faelthîr’s fear in her voice. “Do not be reckless. Do you not think that the Ranger will find out if you take him? They are lovers. It will not take long before Estel sees the bruises, the rope burns, and the seed you will no doubt spill,” she spat.

The mention of Mithfindl spilling his seed caused the laegel’s roiling stomach to turn over completely. He nearly vomited the wine and tincture he’d been given. It was good that he did not sick up, though, for as he was unable to turn his head, he might have choked on his own bile.

 _I have to get out of these bonds. I have to leave this room,_ he thought, his addled ambition no more useful than Faelthîr’s unexpected appearance had turned out to be, for still he could not move.

“I have done nothing to him – yet. If you would kindly leave,” the warrior said with much sarcasm, “I would finish what we have started.”

"And have all of Imladris suspect that the Prince has now been raped? I think not," she told him firmly. Legolas suspected in some part of his mind that was slowly coming to lucid awareness that the she-Elf was just as crazy as Mithfindl was. "As soon as possible, give him a little more of the poppy and use the charm to make sure that he doesn't remember coming here, or this conversation," she warned the warrior. “Then get him out of here. You can have him to your heart’s content once we are gone from Imladris.”

Taking the she-Elf's anger as if habituated to it, Mithfindl ignored her advice. Wanting to hear what news the she-Elf brought, he changed the topic, “What does Kalin say of it? How is the King?”

“I spoke to him earlier today. But I went by Thranduil’s rooms just now to look for Kalin, though of course, they did not allow me near, nor was Kalin there; however, one of the guards told me that the King sleeps still.” The she-Elf sighed with great irritation. He could hear the faint sound of laughter from the stairs overhead. His every muscle strained to move, to so much as open his mouth and let loose a cry for help to whomever it was that passed nearby him. “Mithfindl,” the Elleth started, “when I asked where Kalin was, the guard told me that Kalin and Estel are looking for Legolas right now. You must get him out of here. Immediately.”

Silence ensued after this for a brief time. Whether this news bothered Mithfindl or not, Legolas could not tell by the tone of the warrior’s voice when he assured her, “Thranduil has not woken. That is good news. We need to ensure that he remains slumbering for a while more.”

“No,” the she-Elf countered, “we may still salvage our plan and use Thranduil. Let him awaken,” the she-Elf suggested. "You gave Thranduil too much the first time. We are lucky you did not kill him. We should not be using it to keep him unconscious. The next time we might not be so lucky. When he awakes, we can use the charm on him and the one on the Prince to make certain that they leave the valley as quickly as possible, and us with them. Once free of Elrond’s brood and the human, it will be easier to subdue them both."

A momentary silence ensued, which told Legolas that the warrior and she-Elf were communicating without words: something in the warrior’s body language must have annoyed the already irate she-Elf, for she sighed.

“Mithfindl,” the she-Elf whispered fiercely, when it seemed clear she had rather screamed the warrior’s name. “This is not what we agreed to. I did not agree to your revenge against that foolish human Ranger!”

The Noldo argued straightaway, “I have changed my mind; I want the Prince for my own, and soon.” Although he couldn’t see Mithfindl, he could nearly imagine the selfish frown upon his face – it was the same look the warrior gave most people in most nearly any situation. “We can achieve our goals in a different way. I want to destroy the Ranger as he tried to destroy me. I want him to know what is happening to his whore before we leave the valley. I want him to know what it is like to have the Prince turn his back on him, as everyone has turned their backs on me, and I have thought of how to proceed.”

Legolas knew that he should be trying to understand what was being said. Their conversation was significant. They spoke of him, his father, Estel… there was great import to their words, but he could not comprehend their full meaning. They left much out of their conversation, for of course the both of them knew of what the other spoke. In his inebriated state, Legolas did not have the faculties to cipher it. Still, he tried his hardest to remember, to take in as much of what they said as possible. If his father and Estel were in danger, he would live through whatever Mithfindl had planned for him long enough to stop the Noldo from hurting those he loved.

“Listen,” Mithfindl continued, a hint of greed and pleading to his voice as he spoke, “It is too late to do this as we had intended. The best course now is to continue with what we have already. The Prince is weak in will and heart from grief. He is the easier of the two to control, and he will break under me more easily. I will tell Legolas that the human poisoned his father. I want him to turn against the Ranger completely.”

“You cannot kill the King,” she warned quietly, interrupting to caution, “I will not allow it. I will not be a kinslayer just to be someone of import in barbaric Eryn Galen! We must be careful in how the tincture is used. We cannot give him more for a while.”

Mithfindl agreed readily enough, wanting Faelthîr’s complicity once again, “Fine, let the King awaken. We need Thranduil as much as we need Legolas. Indeed, we need one to control the other, and if Legolas is under my control, then his father will follow suit. We will let the King awaken, just as long as Estel is blamed for the King’s condition beforehand. We must bide our time for a short while to set these things in motion. Eventually, Thranduil – or Legolas, if I tire of him – can be _swayed_ to sail.”

Perhaps she began to see that Mithfindl’s new scheme, shoddy and quickly devised though it may be, was in fact going to work and their aims achieved despite the setback, for the she-Elf’s tune began to change and she finally settled, “Alright. You must remember, Mithfindl, that the charm upon him is enduring, but you can use it against him only if no one interferes with your persuasion. If you wish to control him, you must control him absolutely. The poppy may make it easier to gain his trust, because his mind will be too imbued with its bewildering pleasure, but he must come to obey you even without it. Brute force is not the best way – you will have to shape his mind, not just mark his body.”

Again, the warrior returned his gaze to Legolas, who felt the Noldo’s eyes upon the exposed part of his flesh as if they were hands. “You mean I must poison him, and then poison him against the others.”

Apparently understanding just what the warrior meant without his divulging it entirely, the she-Elf agreed, “Yes. His thinking that the Ranger has poisoned his father will weaken his trust with Estel, but you must see to it that he comes to distrust Lord Elrond, Elrohir, and Elladan, and I will see to it that Kalin believes what we wish him to believe, even without a charm to place upon him. The poor fool is besotted with me. Once the Prince has publicly accused Estel for Thranduil’s condition, he will be ostracized from those who might break your control of him. Make him accuse Estel immediately – the next time he sees the Ranger in the company of the Wood-Elves – and then you may have your fun. Later tonight, even, because if you leave any marks,” Faelthîr jested darkly, her mood lightened a she saw the potential in Mithfindl’s plan, and thus sought to further it by telling him, “then you can blame that on the human, as well. The human will surely be angry to have his whore disobey him, so if he earns himself a few bruises and a lesson in keeping his mouth closed, then all the better fun for you, and all the more reason for Legolas to want to leave the valley. I can imagine no greater betrayal for our dear Prince.”

Forgetting that he was trying to be quiet to avoid detection of their presence, Mithfindl laughed riotously at his conspirator’s suggestion, his glee in obtaining her compliance and good counsel making him forget himself for a moment. But a few seconds later, Faelthîr shushed the Noldorin warrior with irritation, and then told him, “Just as the good slave obeys his master, he will do your bidding for the rest of his life if you follow my instructions. Until then, tread cautiously. Do not be seen with him, just as we cannot be seen together.”

“The Wood-Elves are animals, same as your horses,” the jolly Mithfindl said, for he was glad to have his accomplice’s agreement again, “and our Princeling will be as easy to break as one, as well. When his father wakens, the Silvan, and the two of us, will be on our way out of the valley, if all goes well. Leave breaking the Wood-Elf whore to me,” Mithfindl assured the she-Elf, though he smiled at Legolas as he promised, "I know just how to make him hate the human for the rest of his pathetic days."

Legolas heard the two snickering in delight at the slur the warrior had made towards the Silvan, but none of this mattered to the Prince. His benumbed hands twitched involuntarily at the bonds holding them. His head was beginning to ache. His belly felt like it was floating in an over-swelled river and he wished to rub it to soothe the nausea. The abject fear he felt made his heart pound. He could do nothing to relieve any of these troubling conditions. Most importantly, though, some of the two fiends’ conversation was beginning to make perfect sense to Legolas.

 _I must remember this,_ he told himself, aware that he had forgotten last night and likely would forget what happened now, as well, if Mithfindl wished it. Still, though, he repeated their words in his head, desperate not to give in so easily to them. _They will turn me against Estel. They will force Ada under their will._ Mithfindl had threatened to hurt the Prince, to use him as the merchants’ had, but his fear of this was second to his fear for his father and lover.

Revealing that she was truly the intellect behind this strange scheme of theirs, the she-Elf gave Mithfindl explicit directions, telling him, “We must only tell Legolas that his beloved human is the reason for his father’s state. We need give him no proof. We only need the Prince to believe it is so. This in itself will cause a rift between Legolas and those he trusts here in the valley. There is no need to tell him how Estel has done it. When you have control of him – without Estel and the twins, without Elrond’s influence – and once the King wakes, we will leave the valley. It will be easier for you to maintain your control over Legolas, and we can work then on our control of the King in Eryn Galen. Whether Estel is blamed or not by Thranduil or the Wood-Elves, it is only important that Legolas believes it so. From what Kalin has told me, Thranduil will be eager enough to leave Imladris and the Ranger behind that it will not take convincing to make him agree.”

“And since you _must_ have the Prince, then at least be more cautious,” the she-Elf warned as she walked to the door, adding with resignation as she gave the warrior her final instructions, “Give him no more than a few drops of the poppy tincture diluted with wine at any one time. I fear you are giving him too much at once. So long as it does not accumulate too quickly in his system, he should not lose consciousness nor become obviously ill. Don’t forget that Elrond and all three of his sons will spot something amiss with the Prince’s health if we are not careful.”

The she-Elf sighed, her reservations about Mithfindl's ability to see through her instructions clear in how she spoke slowly and evenly, as if the warrior were hard of hearing, "I do not know yet how we will ensure that Legolas turns his back on Elrond and his progeny, but we must act quickly. If any were capable of discovering what we have done, it will be Elrond.”

Mithfindl walked her to the door, intent on locking it after she left. She imparted her final instructions: “Make sure that no one sees him, Mithfindl, or we might as well find Elrond and tell him of our plans in person! It will take no more than another day until Thranduil will awaken on his own. Find some way to turn the Prince away from the human and Elrond and his sons tonight, so that when Thranduil awakens, Legolas will be eager to take his King home. After you have sent the Princeling on his way, go be seen in public and then meet me back here before dawn. I will tell you more of what Kalin told me of what happened to Legolas. You might be able to use it against the Prince to make him yours.”

With that, the door creaked open and shut with a soft thud.

Striding immediately to Legolas once the she-Elf was gone, Mithfindl fingered the bead against the laegel’s scalp and told him, “You will forget coming here tonight, Prince. You will forget meeting me here. You will forget seeing Faelthîr here. And you will forget all that you have heard us speak of tonight.”

It was starting to leave him. The euphoria was short lived, perhaps even more so than the night before. However, Legolas did not remember the night before. The things he had heard, the presence of his sentry’s new lover, and the constant mention of Estel, the King, and of some charm – these details snaked their way through his aching head, and though the Prince knew that they were important, it took only Mithfindl’s uttered demands to subjugate the Wood-Elf’s will and cause him to forget it all. As hard as he had tried to make sense of their conversation, and as hard as he had tried to remember it for later, with a few words, the laegel’s mind was as clear of the last hour as it was of the last night.

Frustrated that he had to wait to take his pleasure from the laegel, Mithfindl drew a knife from his belt to cut the rope around the Prince’s wrists. “I suppose I can wait a few more hours, my lovely whore,” the warrior said, seemingly speaking more to himself than to Legolas. Although with their release the feeling began to return to the laegel’s hands, he could barely tell that Mithfindl had hold of them as the Noldo pulled him into sitting, and then into standing. His tunic slid the rest of the way down on its own, but his trousers, which were still around his ankles, had to be pulled up, laced, and tied by Mithfindl. As he did so, the Noldo groaned in abject aggravation. “Oh, but it will have to be soon. The longer I have to wait, the worse it will be for you,” the Noldo joked as he finished his task. “Later tonight, Legolas. I cannot wait any longer.”

Once more clothed, the Wood-Elf merely waited for what happened next. Now that he stood, his stomach was only slightly less nauseous. _What am I doing here?_ he asked himself. He had been on his way back from his rooms to go to his father’s guest rooms, to sit by his King with Estel, and yet here he stood, with Mithfindl of all Elves, in some dusty storage room. _What in the name of the One is going on?_

“Legolas, listen to me,” Mithfindl began in his tranquil, mesmerizing voice, placing a hand on each side of the Prince’s face to force his attention on the warrior, and then put his hand back upon the periapt ensconced in the Silvan’s hair. “Listen,” he repeated, before beginning his instructions to the quiet and eerily quiescent Wood-Elf.

“You are to let no one else touch you,” Mithfindl spoke softly, calmly, and incisively, his words burned into the laegel’s cognition as though he had thought them himself. “Especially not the Ranger. They may harm you, as they have your father. You cannot trust them, Legolas. Not Estel, not Elladan or Elrohir, not even Elrond. Especially not Elrond. The Ranger has already poisoned your father. Do not let them near you or your King again."

He meant to shake his head in automatic negation of such an absurd idea. To think that he could not trust Elrond and the twins, or his human lover – the denial of the accusation ran through his mind, but just as quickly, Mithfindl's imbued charm did its work to replace Legolas’ volition with the warrior's will instead.

"And you were never here, you will remember nothing of what Faelthîr and I spoke, you will not remember seeing either myself or Faelthîr this night,” Mithfindl was repeating with a smirk, kneading the muscles of the laegel's shoulders intimately with his free hand as he spoke. “You went walking in the gardens to think, should any ask. Shortly before dawn, you will return here. Do you understand me? You will return to this room. Let none see you.”

The Noldo continued on for a while longer, giving his instructions to the complacent laegel. He found himself nodding at Mithfindl, believing every word that the warrior told him, accepting quite readily that the Noldo was right, that he had never come to this strange room nor heard Mithfindl and Faelthîr’s odd conversation. After several minutes of the Noldo planting new lies and ideas into Legolas’ mind, Mithfindl left, and shortly thereafter, the Prince followed suit.

As he walked towards the family wing of the house to where his rooms were, Legolas could not help but fume as he realized, _This is Estel’s fault. He has poisoned my father._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Instead of searching for the Prince, as they had intended to do, the sentry and Ranger remained seated in the alcove where they had conversed. It had actually been a pointless task to find the laegel, for if Legolas wished not to be found, neither sentry nor human would have been able to locate him. So instead, the pair had sat in companionable peace for the last hour or so, occasionally asking the other about some detail or bringing up some question concerning the timeline of events surrounding Thranduil’s illness, while speculating what else might be responsible for it.

Pausing midsentence in his estimate about how drunk he thought the King might have been before asking Legolas to take him to his chambers last night, Kalin turned his head towards the hallway, and Aragorn strained to hear the sounds that the sentry heard already. Not from the passage where the King stayed did these noises come, but from the one leading from the main stairs, meaning that the walker was about to come their way. Abruptly, the sentry stood, his head tilted to the side. “It is Legolas, I can tell by how his injured leg does not hit the ground as hard as the other. It must ache, for he treads upon it even more lightly than usual.”

It was an odd thing for the sentry to be so familiar with, but then, Kalin was an Elf with exceptional hearing and he had been listening to the Prince’s stilted walk for months now. Yet, it also dismayed the Ranger to think that the once perfect Wood-Elf was now marred by what seemed a nearly inconspicuous flaw to Estel, but was still a defect that made the Prince stick out amongst his fellow Silvan warriors. Even more dismaying was Kalin’s supposition that the laegel walked lightly upon one leg because his healing wounds were aching more than usual. He stood with Kalin, leaving their gloomy and thus far fruitless conversation behind them as he exited the alcove to find his lover was heading to the hallway where Legolas’ rooms were located.

_I hope it is overuse and not misuse that has caused Greenleaf’s thigh to hurt tonight._

“Legolas!” Even as he sprinted the short distance to where the Prince had stopped at hearing his name, he called out to the Elf, “Wait, Legolas.”

The Prince did not turn around to see them, but as soon as the Ranger came close enough, his hand reaching out to the laegel to assure him, or rather to assure himself of the Elf’s well-being, Legolas stepped quickly forward while turning around, not responding to Aragorn’s words or attempt to touch him. The Prince stared blankly between his sentry and the Ranger, as if waiting from mere politeness to hear why they had called out to him.

 _It is the scar,_ he surmised at once, not hesitating to step forward, his arm still out to do as he had done many times over the last few months – to lend his hand, quite literally, in ridding his lover of the maleficent voice that plagued him. So accustomed was he to this eccentric behavior, the eschewal of his touch and nearness when the still grieving laegel would be under the spell of his sorrow’s strange manifestation, that Aragorn was no longer offended by the second and more angry of Legolas’ seemingly dual personas. A pang of guilt afflicted him, instead, for it came at this time when he had thought Legolas well after they had shared their bodies. The disenchanted human felt quite fatigued from the constant struggle to maintain the Elf’s recovery.

“Greenleaf,” he said, taking hold of the subdued Elf’s forearm before Legolas could pull away again.

To both Estel and Kalin’s utter surprise, Legolas reacted violently to Estel latching onto his arm. The Prince yanked his arm free and then shoved the Ranger away from him, causing Aragorn to stumble backwards into Kalin. Quick to act, the sentry righted the human before he fell, but not before they knocked a table over, causing it to crash to the ground without breaking although the small statue that had set upon it broke into innumerable shards upon the stone floor.

“Greenleaf!” he yelled in caution and umbrage, accepting Kalin’s help to stand properly, ere he tried to approach the Prince again. More angry words came to mind, but seeing the unfounded fear and rage on the Wood-Elf’s face, his continued tirade faltered, and he said a third time, though this time it was in a tone quiet with defeat, “Greenleaf.”

The emotion fell from Legolas’ face to be replaced with shock, as if he had suddenly become aware of what he was doing. When a cautious Estel approached yet again to comfort Legolas, the Ranger grabbed the Elf while Legolas was still in his bizarre fugue. He caught his lover’s arms securely under his to hold them tightly against the laegel’s own body so that the Prince could not escape again. He had done this very thing on the balcony in Mirkwood – when bringing the Prince from his disconnection – and the realization of the similarity of the situation did not escape Aragorn.

"Estel!" Kalin barked in reprimand, for the sentry was not sure whether to aid the Ranger or the Prince, and so instead helped neither.

“Let go of me,” Legolas growled with such fury and loathing that the human felt certain that the scar spoke for the Prince. It could not be his Greenleaf speaking with such hatred – not to Estel. Not weakened by injury as he was those months ago, the laegel broke loose of Estel’s hold, knocking the human back with the force with which he freed himself. This time the Ranger was better able to keep his feet. He stumbled but did not fall.

“Estel,” Kalin warned quietly, and it was then that the human realized that the three were soon no longer to be alone in the hall, for several of the Silvan sentries stationed outside the King’s room, including Ninan, were now sprinting down the hall towards them. The commotion of the table falling, the statue shattering, and Kalin’s subsequent shout had brought the King’s sentries from the next corridor just in time to see the human trying to handle their Prince in what must have seemed to them to be a violent manner, while they had also seen their Prince's attempts to throw Estel off him. Without collaborating with each other, the Silvan moved in tandem to insinuate their way between Estel and Legolas as an impassible wall of angry Elven faces and well-honed but luckily still sheathed swords.

 _I am not letting him flee while under the scar’s influence,_ the Adan told himself, at the ready to tackle Legolas if need be. He watched the Wood-Elf for a moment, trying to ascertain if his touch, which usually drew the Prince away from the loathsome scar’s recriminations, had any effect on the Elf. Still, Legolas glared at the Ranger as if the human were his nemesis and not his lover. Not to be dissuaded, nor to allow the King’s sentries to interfere when it may mean the Wood-Elf leaving his sight before the vile voice was silenced, he moved to grab the laegel again.

Thinking as had Aragorn of the last time the human had held his Prince against the laegel's wishes, Ninan placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, stepping in front of the Adan and clearing the space between them to warn minimally, “Ranger.”

“This is your doing, Estel,” the Wood-Elf Prince charged, stepping back away from the ring of guards in front of him and towards the family wing’s hallway behind – oblivious, it seemed, to the tension of his kinsmen’s sudden animosity towards the human. “When I have proof of what you have done to my father,” Legolas began, and then, looking about as if just noticing that others were around them, he quit and walked away without finishing.

Aragorn stood staring after his lover, disbelief causing him to dither when he should have been after the Prince, trying to determine what had brought about this strange allegation. Moreover, he should be trying to help the Woodland Elf dispel the tiresome voice that must have been plaguing him to make him doubt the human so. However, Estel did not move, except when noticing that the same distrustful eyes that had been watching the Prince all day were now turned on him – and with the same suspicion, no less.

 _He was never better… else, this malady is incurable,_ the Ranger thought with tears of wretched disillusionment stinging his eyes. This caused him to turn away to hide his face, after doing so realizing that he made himself appear more guilty to the Elves around him, and only then did he think to go after Legolas again, to try to comprehend what foul things the scar had said to him to make the Elf believe that Estel was responsible.

Kalin cleared his throat as the human began to broach the Silvan in front of him, and though he did not say a word, from the look the sentry gave him when he looked behind to Kalin, the Ranger paused. He knew Kalin’s intent. After seeing what they had, the Wood-Elf sentries would not have been pleased had the Ranger followed the Prince and may have tried to stop him, especially if they believed their Prince’s allegation. Now was not the time to start an argument with the Silvan, especially one that could end with someone becoming unnecessarily hurt.

“He did not mean it,” the laegel’s head sentry told Estel, though obviously not so quietly that the other Elves could not hear. They still stood in an almost perfect semicircle to block access to the hallway, the corridor into which Legolas had just fled. “The Prince is merely upset, and does not mean what he says. Let us find Lord Elrond. He will have some advice to help the Prince cope with this new sorrow.”

Following behind Kalin, unaware of where they were going, the Ranger still reeled with reprehension. It did not escape Aragorn's attention that the Prince's sentry had not sided with his fellow Silvan, at least, in readily accepting the Ranger's supposed and as yet unexplained culpability intimated by Legolas' vague insinuation.

 _I am the only one who would stand behind him no matter what he may have done to his father,_ the human rued, feeling all the more saddened because of it, as he shook his head to finish, _and yet he believes I am the perpetrator instead!_

No matter the cause of his thinking, Legolas had made a serious allegation in front of his own kinsmen concerning the welfare of their King. Regardless of what the Elf had meant by his denunciation of Estel, the Prince had said it and the Wood-Elf sentries would not soon forget it.


	20. Chapter 20

Without conscious thought as to what he had just said to his sentries and lover or what his words might mean to them, Legolas stumbled along the hallway, his hand out to his side to catch himself should he fall. None followed him; Ninan and his fellow Elves had resumed their post in front of the King’s chambers, certain that Estel had not followed their Prince, since Kalin had left with the human. None of the sentries had stopped their Prince either, for they had seen his wrath and did not want to bear the brunt of it. He could still hear them conversing in front of his father's room, their words muffled by the laegel's own heavy breathing. A taut belt of panic had tightened around his chest, driving out the foreign loathing he had felt when seeing the Ranger, when feeling Aragorn's hands upon him. He had never been so angry with anyone, much less Estel.

 _Estel poisoned my father?_ he asked himself, testing the words in his mind to find them mendacious and implausible. However, even though his mind could not fathom it, he did not question that the Ranger had poisoned the King. It seemed as natural as the cold moonlight filtering through the high airshafts in the hallway through which he shambled, his hand always on the wall for guidance.

“Fresh air,” he told himself aloud, not aware that he spoke. “Fresh air will relieve my mind of this haze.”

With a purpose that belied his staggering and abrupt movements, the Elf took his hand from the wall and walked into his room, and straightaway to the small balcony there attached. He did not care for the view so close to the edge – it dizzied him, making the Prince fumble backwards until his shoulder hit the external rock of the house outside his room. He slid slowly down the outside wall, his hair, already down from where Estel had pulled it free to search for the wounds upon his scalp,  caught in the mortar of the rock and tugged painfully free from the loose tail he had tied it into at some point, though he could not remember doing so. Absently, the Wood-Elf combed through his long hair to straighten it from its knots. He could not remember when last he had washed his face but it felt tacky. For some reason, he smelled of wine. The previous two days had seemed to last forever for him, even though he realized there were some parts of his living them that he could not recall.

In the gardens below him and spreading out in this area until the stone of the mountain valley ended where it was possible for cultivation, a few Noldor milled around, walking slowly on their way to their homes, their tasks, or just for the enjoyment of their Lord’s well-tended grounds as the moon swung its nightly course over the valley. He could see them through the thin gaps between the balusters that walled in the lower half of the balcony. With his rear on the firm rock of the floor and his back against the equally adamantine stone of the wall of the house behind him, Legolas drew his legs up, resting his head on his knees and his arms keeping his legs tight to his tremulous body. He felt as if he were suspended in air; his stomach roiled nauseously each time he saw out over the edge of the floor and into the garden below.

 _After fresh air, I will return to Ada’s rooms,_ he decided, closing his eyes tightly in hopes of not having to endure the sight or the nausea any longer. Breathing in deeply, the Prince tried to clear his mind. Something tickled the back of his neck and sides of his face, so he reached up to swat at it – his hand came away damp. Legolas used both hands to trail along the back of his neck, and this time, both hands came away drenched in briny liquid that evinced his sickness. _I am sweating,_ he thought, true surprise causing him to rub frantically at his face and neck, only to find that he seeped sweat profusely. _How strange._ How long he sat there the Wood-Elf did not know. Between fighting the urge to sick up his belly full of wine and trying to stop the whole of the evening sky from spinning recklessly overhead, the Prince let the night crawl by, hoping that soon he would feel able to walk so that he could return to his Ada.

“Legolas?” he heard from the hallway outside his room. A similar voice called him by his common nickname, “Greenleaf?”

 _Elladan and Elrohir,_ he told himself, placing his hands on the balcony floor to push himself to his feet, and then noticed that his arms and legs were wobbling with the effort. Letting his quaking limbs slacken, the Elf lowered himself as tenderly as he could back to the chill bare floor. He rested his head on his arm, thinking, _If they wish to enter, they may have to break down the door._ It wasn’t that he did not wish his longtime friends to come into his bedchambers; it was merely that he didn’t have the wherewithal to rise to unlock the door.

He could not let them touch him. He knew this. Legolas did not need to question why he could not let them touch him. He only knew that it was not to happen. Other vague ideas about the twins, their father, and the Ranger came to mind, though he dismissed them without truly noticing their import. These seedling ideas would fruit in good time: Mithfindl had been clear and thorough in his instructions.

 _I should not give the twins any reason to doubt me,_ he decided. It was obvious to Legolas that already all believed him to be the cause of his father’s current state, even though the Prince now knew better. He did not know how to prove to them that the human Ranger – the man with whom he had lain, shared his body, and to whom he would have bonded his faer – was trying to exact revenge upon Thranduil through murder. Until he could prove the Ranger’s culpability or remove his father from the valley, he would have to watch his actions around the Noldor and his father’s sentries. The worst that could happen right now is if they decided that Legolas had once more gone mad with grief, for then the Noldor would have cause to dismiss his knowledge of Aragorn’s misdeeds and his fellow Silvan might side against him or turn to Ninan as their leader – at least until Thranduil awoke, if the King indeed awoke.

“Perhaps he is not here?” Elladan asked his brother, their voices muted by the solid wooden door barring their entrance. They must have had their faces nearly pressed to the door to listen within for some sign that Legolas was inside.

“And yet his knob is locked? There is no key to this lock,” Elrohir reminded his brother, “so he is inside. He is hiding from us. My concern is why."

Part of him responded automatically to their worry – the same instinct that he had been using to deflect the twins, his Minyatar, and the Ranger's questions and fears these past weeks triggered now – and he finally pushed himself from the floor and to his hands and knees. In sudden illness upon trying to stand, he nearly fell facedown back to the stone before he caught himself, his hands splayed out just in time to keep him awake and aware. Although his vision darkened at the abrupt change in position, he forced himself into rising, swaying only a moment on his feet before he stood steady, moving with as much grace as he could muster off the balcony, into the room, and to the door where the twins were now speaking of how to break into the laegel's chamber.

The part of him that was not of his own control, the strange advice and thinking that Mithfindl had instilled in him to undermine the Prince's own will, reminded him that he needed to keep from giving anyone any indication that he was ill. As he walked, the Prince adjusted his hair, flattening it then pulling it back into its loose tail. He swiped at his sweat-drenched face with the sleeve of his shirt, straightened his clothing, and settled the collar of his tunic to hide the now darker and increasingly swollen skin of his throat. If Mithfindl had known how sick the Prince would become from giving him too much of the milk of the poppy plant, he might have hidden the Wood-Elf away instead of forcing him into this performance, because as rickety and confused as he was, it would be impossible for the twins not to notice that all was not well with their Woodland friend, regardless of his feeble attempts to hide his sickness.

From what he could hear of their conversation, the two Noldor had decided they could break the door down between them when the Elf over whom they fretted suddenly allowed them entrance.

"Morgoth's balls, Legolas!" Elladan exclaimed with much relief. He and his brother pushed past the laegel, ensuring that they would not be shut out of the Prince's rooms, and began their rant without giving the Wood-Elf the chance to object to their entrance.

"Ada said that you were going to your father's chambers," the elder twin continued, both he and his brother looking over the bedchamber as if they expected to find some evidence that Legolas was caught again in his woe, complicated by the constant worry of his father's unnatural sleep. The Wood-Elf was accustomed to their blatant spying. Had he not known them for most all of his life and the greater part of their lives, it might have bothered Legolas to be treated as a juvenile, much less by two Elves who were his senior by only hundreds of years.

"But you were not there," Elrohir added, the dark-haired, sharp-witted brothers coming full circle to stand in front of the Prince. It seemed they wanted an account of what the Prince had been doing while alone. His friends and lover had managed to keep him within eyesight since coming back to Imladris, and in the few times that Legolas managed a moment alone, they would hound him with questions about what he’d been doing. "And your sentries said that Estel and Kalin were looking for you, as well, and… Legolas?"

He had taken to rubbing his aching head, his kneading fingers sliding easily over his perspiring scalp and neck. As the imbued wine he had been given was beginning to wear off, with its absence returned the debilitating headache that he had suffered from all day. It was some time before he looked up to see the twins staring at him, their concern identical on their equally matching faces. Although he was charged with not arousing their suspicion, Legolas could not recall why. He clearly remembered that he was to let no one get near him, although he did not recollect why this should be so, either. Trusting Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond and most of his household, was second nature to Legolas, and despite his orders to rescind that trust, the Wood-Elf found it hard to act upon when they looked at him with such affection and concern.

 _It is for your own protection,_ the deviant voice of his diverted mind told him. It made much sense to the Prince to be so cautious with his father already inexplicably ill, though why he would fear either twin made no sense whatsoever. Even though Estel had poisoned his father, the Prince could not imagine either twin or Elrond having any part in it.

Forgoing asking when he wished to feel for himself the fever that he saw on the Prince's face, Elrohir raised his hand with a devoted, troubled smile to Legolas' cheek. The Prince stepped hastily back and away from him, sidling along the wall and then the mantel for support as he evaded his friend's gentle hand. The abrupt motion caused him to stagger with dizziness and it was only luck that he bumped into the couch to sit upon the arm instead of falling through the air to land on the floor.

"You are flushed with fever, Greenleaf! What has happened to make you so sick?" the elder asked, moving with his twin to block the Wood-Elf’s intended escape from their healers' interest. They moved as one to stand on either side of him. "Why did you not answer the door before?"

"What is the matter, brother?" the younger twin called the Prince, both twins stepping closer, forcing the Wood-Elf between them, as they wedged their way towards him. With his hand outthrust to part their bodies, Legolas slipped between the two Noldor, giving neither the chance to stop him as he tried to get away from their cloying attention.

"It is nothing," he prevaricated, "except that my stomach is ill," he explained ramblingly, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He backed far enough into the room, past the settee and nightstand, so that he could reach the open balcony doors if need be. Already, the panic was returning at the thought of the Noldor touching him when he had been told not to allow it. The idea of jumping down from the balcony made him feel equally alarmed, however, so he stopped before he could see outside the doors and the nausea inducing view beyond. “I drank too much wine and ate too little food for dinner.”

Neither twin questioned what he told them in the least. If they had their doubts, they did not share them. They also seemed to recognize that the harried younger Elf was on the verge of fleeing if they continued to hound him, and so did not advance on the laegel again. If they thought his behavior odd, they did not let on.

“You drank wine again already? After trying to out-drink your father last night?” the younger of the two twins joked halfheartedly, for none was in the mood for gaiety when Legolas’ father lay sick and the Prince stood before them in such curious, peculiar spirits. “I have heard the humans say that drinking the day after a heavy bout with liquor cures the aches of drinking. Something about a hairy dog?”

“The hair of the dog that bit you, idiot,” the elder twin corrected with feigned conceit.

At this, Elrohir shoved his brother in mock anger, causing all three longtime friends to smile, though one's was out of mere habit. Legolas, who did not quite understand their words, tried his best to look amused, for they expected it of him, he knew. Feeling the camaraderie was beyond him. He only acted on instinct, on instruction at the moment. His mind was still too affected by the poppy to do anything but what he'd been told and he was beginning to accept that the twins could not be trusted, just as Mithfindl had directed him to believe.

As if just remembering their purpose, the twins' faces lit up simultaneously, despite their concern over his well-being, which he knew they would bring up again, likely to Elrond. The Wood-Elf was immediately wary of his friends' equally concurrent proclamation of, “Greenleaf!"

Elladan explained, trying again to grab Legolas' arm to pull him, though the Wood-Elf trimly avoided the contact by stepping aside, "Come with us. We may have found a way to aid your father!"

"Let us explain on our way," Elrohir told them.

Neither twin said anything between them about the Prince's abnormal behavior; although, Elrond's perceptive sons shared a shrewd look that spoke more than they could have said aloud. Legolas followed the twins to his father's room eagerly enough with the hope that something might be done for his liege, while listening to the Noldor's back and forth narrative of how they believed they could help Thranduil.

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As Kalin had suggested after their encounter with Legolas in the hallway, the Ranger and he had found Elrond for their advice on the Prince. The healer had been on his way back to Thranduil's rooms. They were already surrounded by the Mirkwood guards before Elrond let up his buoyant telling of what news he had, and Aragorn and Kalin did not get the opportunity to speak to the healer before the other Silvan were within earshot. He learnt from his father, however, that during their absence the twins had found some recipe in a tome long untouched in their Ada's study, its ingredients simple enough considering their purpose. While walking them back to the guest room that had become the Elf-King’s sickroom, Lord Elrond had told both human and sentry that the potent result of these herbs was sometimes used to try to waken Elves having fallen in Gûlduin, the Enchanted River in Mirkwood. Although the tome was vague on the mixture's origins, it was deemed inherently harmless by Elrond, and thus the twins had set about making it. They had little else to hope for at the moment. Without knowing the cause of Thranduil's malady, Elrond could not truly set about curing it using non-magical methods.

"It is the smell and taste that I believe will awaken him," the Imladrian Lord jested evenly as they made their rapid way to the King's rooms. "The smell from Elladan overly boiling the first batch will never be aired from the apothecary," Elrond continued happily, proud despite his ribbing that his twin sons had discovered a possible way to help the King.

The substance over which he spoke was ensconced in a glass phial in his hand, having been given to the master healer by his twin sons. Aragorn eyed the vile looking substance, which was the putrid green of pond scum on a hot day. From what Elrond told him it contained, the mixture would be quite invigorating, giving the King impetus to waken, or so it was hoped. As it was used on beings with a modicum of success when under a sleep as deep as that from Eryn Galen's cursed river, Aragorn held some hope that it might work for Thranduil.

 _For Legolas' sake,_ he told himself, walking ahead of the two Elves with him so that he could push aside the tapestry marking off the main hall from the short wing where Thranduil and the servants he had brought with him were placed. Letting his optimistic father and a suddenly very encouraged Kalin pass under, he followed them with much less enthusiasm. _For Legolas' sake, I hope that this tonic does some good._

He refused to consider that the King would not waken. Although he had just told his father a short time ago that he did not care if the King woke or not, he had not once considered the effects upon himself in such a case because he had only thought of how Thranduil's demise or condition might affect the Prince. However, now that the laegel had seemingly turned his back on the Ranger, what the human now considered was that if Thranduil did not waken, the Prince might forever believe that Estel was to blame.

How the Prince had come to his conclusions, whether he meant them or had spoken out of anger or fear, whether the scar's voice tormented him into these doubts of his lover, and if Estel would be able to allay the Prince’s misgivings and mistrust – all of these hinged upon his keeping the Silvan sentries at bay while trying to draw Legolas nearer.

 _Their Prince accused me of Thranduil's condition, moments after they think they saw me assault their Prince,_ he thought to himself, wishing that he'd had the time to talk to his father of this, though now they were in Thranduil's rooms. _They will not soon let me near Greenleaf again – not alone._

Despite that that King slept, every candle and lamp, including the fireplace in the outer chamber, were lit in Thranduil’s rooms. The doors to the balcony were open wide to let in the fresh night air, the King’s servant had replaced and refreshed the pitchers of water and removed any detritus that had accrued from the Wood-Elf sentries’ constant presence in the room. Even the King looked different, as if Faidnil had taken a moment to straighten his nightclothes, his hair, and perhaps washed his face for the night.

 _I imagine it gives Faidnil and the other Wood-Elves comfort to take care of their King even when he is unaware of their toil._ It continually surprised Aragorn to see how much the Silvan loved their Sindarin King, and the Ranger had to remind himself now, as he had so many times before, that to his people, Thranduil was a kind, just, and wise ruler. It was only to Legolas that the King was cruel.

Estel watched the sentries as his father explained to them what hope Elladan and Elrohir had found for Thranduil and how it might abet their sovereign. Ninan, who had been at the King's side already upon their approach, stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He would never let the master healer administer the concoction Elrond held – not without his Prince's permission. A day earlier than today, or even a few hours previous, Ninan would not have hesitated to allow Elrond to tend his liege. Nevertheless, with the word of their Prince accusing the master healer's human foster son of their King's condition, it was clear that they suspected Elrond, if only because they were not aware of whether their Prince's suspicions included the Elf Lord or his other sons. Thranduil was their King but the risk was not theirs to take.

Aragorn had learnt his lesson in Eryn Galen – he could not disgrace his father or brothers by acting the fool this time around, and would have to be diplomatic. The circumstances here were altogether different. In Thranduil's halls, it had been clear what had been moral and just, and the Ranger had known, even when Legolas had shunned him during his times of travail and fear, that the Wood-Elf's love for him was there, that he trusted the Ranger. Such truths he could no longer believe in and Aragorn found himself treading in unfamiliar waters. To act rashly could cause strife not only between two realms of people with consequences far greater than to him, but more selfishly, it could push Legolas farther away from him. He was not leaving the wounded laegel to suffer alone. He had promised Legolas a hundred times, if never to his face, then to himself – Estel would not give up on the Wood-Elf, not even if Legolas turned away from him.

As leader of the King's sentinels, Ninan listened intently to the master healer's words, heeding them carefully, although at the end, as Estel expected, the sentry declared, "Wait, my Lord. We must wait for the Prince."

"Of course," Elrond demurred, not at all put off by the sentry's respectful, albeit uncharacteristic denial. "Should Thranduil awaken, it would do father and son good to be close. He loves his Adar dearly, and would want to be the first to greet him. Legolas would be angry with us should he miss it," the healer agreed, to even which the sentries smiled at the gracious praise for their Prince and King. Now that the Silvan did not blame Legolas, it was good for the Silvan to see that Elrond did not, either.

Although obviously aware that his supplied explanation was not at all Ninan's reasoning for wanting his Prince's permission before giving their King the concoction, Elrond was not put off by their barely concealed mistrust, and set to busying himself in checking over his royal patient with a hovering Ninan always watching. Again, Elrond took up conversation with the guard, asking him general questions about the insentient King's movements and drawing the sentry into civil, reticent answers.

Having not sought Legolas out earlier so ignorant of where he could be, Aragorn could only hope that his Elven brothers found him soon and that they would not be forced to search for Legolas. The Mirkwood Elves surrounding them in the room were already on edge. If they had some doubt as to the safety of their Prince, with their King already unconscious and Estel accused of the crime, the Ranger feared a serious lack of diplomacy might be used to ascertain Legolas' whereabouts.

For what seemed an eternity he watched his father attend the King with Kalin's help, making Thranduil comfortable, and lulling the sentries around them into a relaxed silence as the healer tended their liege with utmost care. It was as Elrond had always done, what was his foremost talent – other than war, which he had long since put behind him. Aragorn had learnt many things from the Lord of Imladris, but he had never quite mastered the ability to put at ease those who were at unrest, those who were hurt or confused. Like he tended any patient, Elrond murmured and hummed softly under his breath words and songs of healing that were for none but Thranduil, while smearing a clear unguent containing aloe on the King's lips to keep them from drying out.

The brief peace was broken when Legolas came into the outer chamber, pushing past the twins to reach his father's bed with such briskness that all the Silvan sentries came to full attention, anticipating that they may need to interfere in some way.

He immediately noticed that not all was well with his lover. Flushed and damp, the laegel's skin would have reminded Aragorn of himself after a strenuous run uphill; and yet, on an Elf, such signs of exertion were unusual, and so the human rejected this explanation easily enough. The only time he had seen Legolas in such a state, other than in the throes of bodily satisfaction, was on the rare occasion that the Prince was sick with poison from an enemy blade. Being that he had only an hour or so past seen the extent of the damage he believed Thranduil to have perpetrated against the laegel, the Ranger also rejected poison, although it left him with nothing else on which to blame Legolas' state.

He longed to reach out to touch the Prince, but already, Ninan had insinuated himself between Legolas and the human, giving Estel a surly look of warning as he did. With so many people in the room, Estel grew jumpy, as even the warriors from Eryn Galen who had been in the sitting room now came to the bedchambers to watch, and perhaps come to the aid of their King and Prince, if need be.

Much like their father, the twins picked up straightaway on the strange undercurrent of the room, and although they had no knowledge of Legolas' allegation, as their father did not, they were not oblivious to the strain under which all the Mirkwood Elves watched their Prince. For some sign or indication of his decision did they wait, and the twins in turn watched their friend to see what he would say – for his part, the laegel searched the area visually, and once seeing the strange tonic was on the table beside the bed and had not been used, breathed a very audible sigh of relief.

"No," the Prince demanded, crossing his arms about his chest, apparently having already heard from Elladan and Elrohir what they planned, and not waiting for any assurance or argument.

Lord Elrond was close at hand, already reaching out to Legolas to comfort him while saying, "Greenleaf, it is nothing that will harm him. I am certain your father has had each of these herbs before, even if not in this particular mixture. Elrohir and Elladan found the recipe in a book written by one of your grandfather's healers. It is a Silvan formula."

Unlike their earlier aid to Legolas, to keep him from the Ranger's touch in the hallway, the Mirkwood sentries nearby did not move to keep their Prince from the Imladrian Lord's hands. They shifted uneasily, watching each other and the Noldor, as if hesitant if they should impede, though Elrond merely reached out to lay a hand on the Prince's arm. Legolas did not need his sentries protection, it seemed, for he moved away from his Minyatar in a lumbering step back, nearly tripping over Oiolaire to evade the Imladrian Lord. For a moment, it appeared as if Elrond would follow, as if he would chase down the laegel to the other side of the bed, and Aragorn waited impatiently for Legolas to get close to him. He would have facilitated his father in grabbing the laegel if Elrond made the attempt, so desperate was he to be let into his lover's thoughts.

 _If only one of us could get near enough to help him_.

Aragorn's family was confused as to why the Wood-Elf suddenly did not trust their judgment, though from the way they acted, they too, he saw, believed it to be some insistence from his still healing faer that kept the Silvan Elf distant from them. Primarily, the Adan wanted his lover to be well, to suffer no more grief on the King's behalf or from his enduring any more hardship by the King's reckoning. That Legolas no longer seemed to trust any of them, by whatever strange counsel his sorrow forced upon him now, would only make it harder for the human to see those ends accomplished.

 _I would that I knew what has turned Legolas against me,_ the human wished fervently, trying to meet the agitated Wood-Elf's gaze as the Prince stared down at his father's torpid form. _If I had a moment alone with him. If only_ Ada _could have a moment alone with him,_ he amended.The Ranger knew that this came not from Legolas, and if not from the scar, then something more insidious was occurring. He could not grasp what, but Estel knew his lover, and he knew that Legolas trusted Elrond more than anyone – perhaps more even than Estel or the twins, and especially so now.

"Greenleaf," Elrond probed softly, holding the phial out to Legolas, the one that contained the twins' remedy. "Let us try. I will taste it myself if that appeases you."

"It is best that we prepare to leave the valley," the Prince said without much by way of explanation, not addressing his Minyatar's words, nor sparing a glance to Elrond as he told his sentries and fellow Wood-Elves, "We will travel back to Eryn Galen. Ada will be treated by his own healers."

Oiolaire, Galendil, Ninan, and the other Silvan were already nodding their conformity to Legolas' wish to leave, trusting in their Prince's insight not to use the remedy the twins had created, or any other of the Imladrian healers' remedies, for that matter. It was as Estel had feared, as Mithfindl had desired – turning the blame from Legolas to the Ranger, and thus the Prince against the human, had given the Silvan a different foe to fault, and the Silvan’s acceptance of Legolas' orders came automatically now that they saw how aggrieved their Prince was at his father's condition and how he blamed the Ranger. Their mistrust of Elrond's family was now solidified, as well, which was also Mithfindl's wish.

At first, no one seemed willing to argue against the Prince's decision to leave: not even the twins or their Ada seemed willing to disagree with the laegel, and it was then that the still young Aragorn was reminded of another lesson he had yet to master in being diplomatic – not undermining another leader in front of those he leads. For this, and because he knew his opinion would not be welcome by anyone at the moment, he kept his own counsel behind a bit lip.

 _If the Wood-Elves have lost faith in Ada,_ the human thought of Elrond, _then who do they think can save their King?_

"But Legolas," Kalin argued softly, questioning his liege's command as if the two were alone, unwilling, it seemed, to let the matter go so quickly. Although Kalin was not the only one to wonder what had brought about such an abrupt change in Legolas, he was the only of the Mirkwood Elves that might have the courage to question their Prince. "If there were any that could help your father, then it would be Lord Elrond. We risk the King's health, dubious as it is, in traveling with him," Kalin spoke familiarly, placing a hand on the laegel's shoulder. This touch the younger Elf did not evade, at least, and Estel was all the more glad for it. Even if the other Wood-Elves were against the Ranger, now, it was Kalin whom he most needed on his side, and if the Prince allowed Kalin near, then there was hope that the sentry could help Estel get close to his lover.

Legolas was listening with furrowed brow as if giving Kalin’s worries true consideration, but umbrage at his fellow sentry's disregard for his Prince's order caused Ninan to reprimand his underling sharply before Kalin could convince the Prince, "Kalin, you should be asking how soon the Prince desires to leave, not doubting his judgment."

Perhaps it was because they had no King to follow, or because in Thranduil's absence, Legolas was the one best to make decisions on his father's behalf, but the other sentries did not need to be told again that they would soon be leaving. Even assailed by sorrow and his good sense at one time in question, the laegel was still the only heir to the throne and none in the room dared doubt that Legolas' orders would be followed. To do otherwise would risk treason.

The Prince's friend and sentry, to his credit, appeared properly shamefaced, causing Aragorn to think, _If not for Kalin’s guidance these past months, Legolas would never have come to Imladris. He must keep his Prince's ear, and his trust,_ he rued of Ninan’s interruption. If not even Kalin would be allowed to influence Legolas, then they were truly in trouble.

"If your father suffers from grief, then no healer can bring him back to us," Elrond explained patiently, his oration loud enough that even those in the sitting room could hear as the Imladrian leader tried to assuage them kindly, as was his way, into helping the Noldor to keep the King and Prince here, safe in the valley. "Time and patience are needed, as you well know, Greenleaf."

Legolas did not seem himself at all. With his hands slightly shaking, the trembling, febrile Elf pushed his long hair back from his face, and in an abrupt motion, gathered the wayward length together to replace into the poorly knotted tail at his nape from which it kept escaping. Even in the flickering, dim light of the many candles lit about the room, it was easy to see that the Prince was suffering from something.

"I agree. No healer can help him." Elrond did not respond, but the laegel acted as though he had, nodding to himself and concluding, "If it is as you believe, and my father suffers from some grief, then no tonic will help him. The cause of his malaise still lies within our scope to amend, however. A change of location," the laegel told them quietly, intimating something that each in the room might have interpreted differently, had not Legolas looked to Estel when he added, "and a change of circumstance. These will do my father the most help in what offenses keep him beholden to mourning."

The twins looked to their human brother, and then Aragorn felt most of the sentries' eyes look to him over the course of the next few moments that they stood in silence, each without doubt of no help to the laegel, for they clearly believed every word that Legolas said. Unmistakably, it also made sense to every one of the Silvan that Estel would be the cause of the King's ailing faer, and that their Prince was desirous to leave the valley to save their King from sorrow, if not something more malicious. The Wood-Elves would not be persuaded to do anything otherwise, not when Legolas felt he could remove the impedimental distress that kept Thranduil insentient.

 _Even comatose, Thranduil has bent Legolas to his will,_ the Ranger thought uncharitably, not considering for a moment that the Prince truly did not want the human any longer, or would want to leave to be rid of Aragorn, for the sake of the King. _If it is not the scar, then Thranduil has beaten and guilted Legolas into this sense of duty._

“And if it is not grief, if it is poison or injury that holds him in this slumber,” the laegel added as he moved to sit on the bed beside his King, breaking the uncomfortable silence with an even more awkward and thinly veiled accusation to say with another glare at Estel, “then leaving the valley will still protect him from his assailant.”

He watched, wishing it were his hand that the Elf held, but it was Thranduil's hand the Prince had wrapped around his own. Legolas rubbed his fingers along the back of his Adar's arm, reaching for the sensitive spot at the crux of his wrist, where Legolas felt for himself the still sound beat of the King's heart. If anything, the Prince looked confused as he stared down at his father. All the sentries except Ninan and Kalin had removed themselves back to whatever they had been doing before, though now they waited for instruction on when to leave and how to prepare. It was not often that either the twins or Elrond were able to keep their silence about anything that they disagreed with, and so Estel watched in apprehensive wonder as the three Noldor did not quarrel with Legolas, nor try to broach the matter of the remedy again.

"I will be back shortly. Make preparations," the laegel repeated, speaking more quietly this time, ere he extricated his hand from his father's and made a quick departure from the room before anything else could be said.

The two sentries did not speak, but nor did they move to do their Prince's bidding. He knew for what they waited, and obliged them with a slight bow of his head, the dark curls of his hair falling around his stubbled face. "Let us leave," he told his family, wishing to talk to them, to find out what they knew and confer with them on what Legolas had said.

"My household is at your disposal. Whatever you require for your journey, you have only to ask for it," Elrond reminded the sentries congenially, leading his three sons out of the King's rooms and down the hallway.

 _If this is not Thranduil's doing, then who else could it be? He is the only one who would benefit from Legolas leaving the valley, if that is the culprit's aim._ The end result of Legolas leaving with his King and sentries in tow reeked of Thranduil's doing.


	21. Chapter 21

Kalin had caught up to his Prince and now followed him into his chambers where Faidnil, his father’s servant, was fretting in general agitation over his Prince’s belongings, having nothing else to occupy his worried mind since his King was not in current need of him. Faidnil offered no reason for being in Legolas’ rooms, but gave a short bow of respect to the Prince before he went back to making the bed with fresh sheets. Clothing was gathered to be laundered and other debris of a few teacups, a tray, and a small jar that had once contained honey were waiting to be cleared to the kitchens. The Prince remembered the jar of honey well. Not two days ago, after a pleasurable bath with Aragorn that had ended long after the water was cold, most of the honey had ended up on the Ranger instead of the freshly baked bread it had been intended for and they had needed another bath.

 _It does not seem possible,_ he thought. _Why would Estel do such a thing? He has nothing to gain from doing this,_ the Prince tried to reason, to argue against the voice that told him that the human had poisoned Thranduil. Try though he might, in the end, the Elf was left with no answers and only found himself more assured that Estel was to blame. Knowing that Estel was the culprit, the one who had caused the King's strange state, was as obvious to him as knowing that if he reached his hand out he could grab hold of the tapestry that hung on the wall. How he knew it, the laegel could not decide. The Prince made his way into the washroom, where there were no candles lit and the pervading darkness of the night seemed absolute.

Kalin did not speak either but followed his charge into the bathing room, disregarding whether his Prince may desire privacy or not. The laegel saw there was a fresh pitcher of water waiting on the stand beside the washbowl, no doubt left by Faidnil. Legolas had the urge to take the jug and pour it over his head, for he could think of little else that would ease the heat that raged through his body. Instead, the laegel settled for splashing the liquid over his face, holding the cool water with his cupped hands to his cheeks, where it relieved some of the abnormal sickness he felt.

“You should expect that soon Ninan will demand that there be guards outside your door,” Kalin warned without prelude. Catching the end of a towel from where it sat folded on a table nearby, he took it to his Prince, handing it to Legolas just as the laegel realized that he had not procured one. Gratefully, he took the offered towel and patted his feverish face dry. The sentry snorted a mirthless laugh, "That is, if they are not already posted. I will soon be chained to your hip, as well. He will not assume any longer that your or the King’s safety here in Rivendell is certain."

Legolas did not answer. He was too caught up in his thoughts, of the argument that carried on in his mind against the Ranger, which without proof, relied only upon the steadfast notion of the vague memory Mithfindl had planted within his thinking. He did not even notice as Kalin's frustration grew the longer his Prince remained silent. Amongst the other warriors and sentries, Kalin had held his tongue when charged by Ninan in his questioning of the Prince; in private, Kalin could hold his opinions to himself no more than he could his worry. If he had accomplished nothing else with the Prince over the past months and even the hundreds of years spent watching over his royal charge before recent calamitous times, Kalin felt he had earned the right to speak frankly to Legolas.

The seldom-shut door to the bathing room the sentry grabbed in hand, swinging it silently closed so that Legolas and he were alone. It was not that Faidnil was untrustworthy – for surely, the King’s groom went beyond being a servant and was close enough to Thranduil that Kalin had seen many times some clandestine matter being discussed in the groom’s presence without a thought as to whether Faidnil should be privy to it. In fact, although Thranduil would never admit it to his advisors back in Eryn Galen, if stumped on some issue about which his advisors could not agree, Thranduil often sought out Faidnil’s advice as the pivotal vote.

For this conversation, however, the Prince’s sentry feared what his liege would tell him and did not want anyone else to know Legolas’ suspicions before he had heard them himself – and even then not until he had the chance to speak with the Ranger and Lord Elrond of what his Prince told him. With the King abed, the sentry knew that any question over the Prince’s well-being or soundness of mind would only leave an opening for whoever had harmed their King now to attack or make use of their Prince’s fallibility. Legolas had to maintain a steadfast and authoritative appearance before his kith or else chaos may ensue. If any more reason to suspect the Noldor came from Legolas’ explanations, Kalin did not want the protective and well-meaning Faidnil to spread them to the Eryn Galen sentries out of concern for his Prince or from fear for his King’s health.

“Legolas…” he began, not confident how he should ask the Prince his thoughts, when he feared what he would be told. For a moment, the sentry merely stared at the laegel, a deep frown marring the usually smooth skin of his brow. Finally, the Elf shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out in supplication, as if beseeching the Prince for enlightenment to say obediently, softly, “I do not understand, my Prince. Please explain it.”

 _I can hardly tell him, when I am not certain myself,_ the Prince thought. He watched a moment longer, seeing Kalin’s distress mount when his charge did not seem any more forthcoming. _If there were any who I could tell, it would be Kalin._ His scrambled and wayward thoughts held some answer, if he could only explain it. From a part of his mind that merely remembered and did no thinking of its own came Legolas’ elucidation. He recited to Kalin what Mithfindl had told the Prince earlier, although as he said it now, it came from him as if he were struggling to put the pieces of the strange events together.

“Have you not wondered,” he told his sentry, walking farther into the small, dark bathing chamber, where they were farther from the door and from any chance of being overheard. Speaking in barely more than a whisper, he repeated, “Have you not wondered why it would be that my father fell so quickly into this supposed grief? None can give me cause for it, and when alone with Adar earlier yesterday afternoon, he had told me that he came for reconciliation, Kalin. He did not grieve! He was hopeful. He even spoke of our hunting trip with eagerness," he explained, rubbing his head again as he tried desperately to recall the events of the night before.

"But Legolas," the sentry whispered in like kind and moved closer to the laegel, "in your father's rooms you said you knew the cause for Thranduil's sorrow – if it were sorrow – and the cause also if it were poison. Tell me that you do not truly believe that Estel is behind this."

The younger of the Wood-Elves grabbed his sentry’s arm painfully tight, which Kalin accepted without complaint. Legolas hastily pulled him into the corner, where they were the farthest that they could possibly get from the door and thus any eavesdroppers. "It is not sorrow. Estel has poisoned my father."

He had seen the hurt on the human's face at his intimation that it was their bond that had caused Thranduil's grief and it had pained him tenfold to be causing it. Legolas was not sure why he had said what he had said, but much like his knowledge that Aragorn had poisoned his father, he took it as fact nonetheless, his traitorous mind spewing forth what Mithfindl had earlier fed it.

"Legolas..." the sentry whispered fiercely, showing aggravation towards his Prince that would have caused Ninan to clout him had he seen it. Kalin was not accepting this as the only explanation he would get, and the Prince, feeling at the moment that his sentry may be his only confidante, decided that he wished to know Kalin's thoughts on the matter so would need to tell the sentry everything.

"It is not sorrow," he repeated, "I swear to you, Kalin, that what I said to Estel in the hallway earlier is true. If I had the evidence to prove it, I could show everyone what I know." Already the sentry was frowning, shaking his fair head in denial, but Legolas continued, angered by Kalin's easy rebuff because if there were any to wish Estel innocent it would be the Prince himself, "It is not sorrow! Why else can I not remember what happened? I feel as if someone does not wish me to remember."

Asking aloud what the Prince had been asking himself moments prior, the sentry queried, gazing out the small glass window high upon the wall that allowed scant moonlight into the bathing room, "What cause would Estel have for poisoning your father? He loves you, and I know that you do not doubt this," Kalin implored and turned back to his Prince, adding, “any hurt to Thranduil would only hurt you, as well. Estel would cut off his own hand if it kept you from suffering.”

There were many reasons that the Ranger might wish Thranduil dead – in defense of some wrong Thranduil had committed against Legolas being one of them. If the human were acting as the Elf feared most – that is, out of revenge, if not for Legolas then for himself, for his being banished from Eryn Galen, maybe – then there was much Estel needed to learn about retaining Legolas' love and affection. Kalin was not wrong, however, and the Prince knew that even though the Ranger had harmed his father, Estel clearly still loved Legolas and wished no harm to come to him. He could not reconcile this discrepancy.

“Legolas,” the sentry hissed, trying to draw the Prince from his thoughts.

 _Perhaps Ada threatened him,_ the laegel troubled. He had tried repeatedly to find some way to exculpate the Ranger, but so far, he had no motive, for in the end, Estel would be hurting Legolas should Thranduil die and the betrayal by his human lover would likely send Legolas soon after his father to Mandos' Halls. _Perhaps I will wake in the morning and none of this will have happened._

On the verge of hissing his Prince's name again, Kalin placed himself directly in front of Legolas, stooping down somewhat to meet his fellow Silvan's downcast face, and causing Legolas to look up to him, to stir from his whirlwind thoughts. Forced to admit that he didn't know, the laegel demurred, "I do not have all the answers, though I will find them out. Make preparations for us to leave the morning after the coming day, should my father not awaken before then," he ordered, suddenly worried that the usually loyal sentry was not as amenable as he had hoped, nor as receptive to his fears. He was soon proven right.

“It is not the way,” Kalin pled, forgoing any compunction he might have for being so forthright with his Prince, “for us to go about it as such! If the King grieves from some ill Estel has caused, then leaving the valley will not cure it. If he is poisoned, then none of us is capable of ensuring the King's good health during what would be at least three or four weeks of slow travel. Traveling with both our King and Prince while the King is ill – it places a great burden on our sentries to protect you both. What would Eryn Galen do if we were to lose both of you? And on such a rushed decision. We certainly cannot take a contingent of Imladrian soldiers for protection, or even the Ranger and Lords Elladan and Elrohir, since your trust in the Noldor is uneasy.”

Legolas could see the truth in his sentry’s counsel. At this point, if they left the valley, then it put Thranduil’s life in peril during their travel. Cogitating rapidly, he found that he had no answer for Kalin’s respectful reprimand.

“I would that it were just grief,” he found himself saying, ignoring Kalin’s good advice to follow his own rebellious thoughts. Legolas leant his rear against the edge of the table on which towels and oils were kept, placing his head in his hands again. As the poppy wore off, once more his skull felt as if it may crack at any moment and the pressure of the ache therein was only growing. The laegel sighed deeply. “If I was sure it was grief, my friend, then my father’s fears would be over. I would do whatever it takes to guarantee that he had nothing over which to grieve any longer,” he told his sentry, who appeared genuinely staggered at this answer. “But I tell you, it is not grief. I fear that there is some malice in his condition that may spread beyond Estel,” he confided to the sentry just what he had been instructed to tell him, though it came to him as his own thoughts when he continued, “I trust no one save our own people to keep my father safe.”

If somewhere else, then perhaps the sentry would have been appeased by this answer. However, they stood in Imladris, a place where the Prince had only just come to escape his father’s cruel behavior, where Legolas had come to heal. Even should there be someone in Imladris as the perpetrator, and even if it was the Ranger, then the sentry would never suspect the family of Elrond to be complicit.

“My Prince.” Exasperated and seemingly more confused than before, Kalin halted Legolas with a firm grasp of his forearm when his charge made to leave the bathing chambers, “What brings about this change in heart?”

 _I cannot say,_ Legolas thought, knowing it to be true. While he could not quite pinpoint what made him so sure that the human was the one behind his father’s condition, his questions of his belief did not seem to shake it.

“Do not suppose, for even a moment, that I would choose Estel over my father.” Harsh and castigating, and not bothering to hide his words with whispers, he jerked free his arm from his sentry’s hold, belying everything that the sentry knew of him as he told Kalin the opposite of what even hours ago he would have ever thought possible, “Estel is responsible for the King's sleep. If we stay here, then we must do so with Elrond's hospitality… hospitality than can be easily revoked. I was foolish before to accuse Estel publicly. It is even more imperative that my father is removed from the Imladrians' care."

"I cannot fathom Lord Elrond's participation in poisoning your father." Kalin took hold of Legolas' arm again, giving the Prince the impression that much like his Minyatar and human lover, they sought to touch him because they thought the scar had warped his thinking.

"Listen: Elrond might do what he thought necessary to protect one of his own," he told the sentry, gently prying his fellow Wood-Elf's fingers from his elbow. Once more speaking softly, Legolas assured, "You do not know him, or Estel, as I do. Trust me. Make plans for our travel the morning after the coming dawn, but prepare to leave at a moment’s notice, just in case, and let us hope that our King awakens before then."

Kalin had grown impassive with despair of understanding his liege’s reasoning, until the sentry only nodded in receipt of his Prince's wishes. The elder Wood-Elf was not done with his questions, however. “And what of these bruises?” the sentry inquired, adding in his effort to convince Legolas of the folly of his denunciation of the Ranger, “Estel would never hurt you, my Prince.”

Yet again, the sentry took hold of the laegel’s arm to push back the long sleeve of Legolas’ undershirt, exposing the bruises there. Since this was the first time that Kalin saw the marks upon his Prince, he could not have guessed that the bruises that he saw now were much worse than those that the Ranger had seen earlier. These new marks, made by the tightly wound cord that Mithfindl had used to bind him a couple hours before, were not merely contusions but welts from the rough rope. Kalin did not expect these wounds, which seeped tiny drops of blood from the abraded skin. Whatever Kalin had meant to say, whatever point he had meant to make, fled him at the state of his Prince and he gaped open-mouthed at Legolas’ arm, floundering for words.

“Estel said you had bruises, my Prince,” the sentry stated when his shock finally wore off, “but he did not say that you had been tied!”

 _Estel or Elrond has told Kalin of these bruises – and whatever else they could think of – to make Kalin think I am weak and irrational._ He tried again to pull his arm out of the sentry’s hold but Kalin did not let go so easily this time and held tight as he inspected the wounds. Suddenly, the import of Kalin’s declaration hit him and he thought with surprise, _Tied?_ The Prince looked down at his wrist. He finally managed to pull his arm from Kalin’s grasp and then yanked his other sleeve up to check that arm only to find similar bruises there, as well, along with a few rough fibers of hemp that were stuck in the flesh.

Remembering that the Ranger had said that the laegel was bruised along his side and also around his neck, the sentry pulled at the high collar of Legolas’ tunic to expose his Prince’s throat. Again, not having seen the damage before, Kalin had no idea how much worse the bruises were now. “Sweet Eru,” the sentry exclaimed softly. “Estel said that these bruises were not deleterious, but from the state of your neck, it is a wonder you can even breathe.”

His sentry’s further concern caused Legolas to move away to the burnished mirror hung upon the wall nearby. Though there was little light by which to see his reflection, the deep purple bruises around his throat stood out brilliantly against the comparative paleness of his skin. Legolas had not seen the bruises to his throat earlier, but even these he thought had to be worse than before. _Where have these come from? When did this happen? Have I been attacked again?_ This morning, Estel, Elrond, and even Legolas had been willing to attribute his condition to Thranduil, but the King was insentient and the Prince had been battered once again and this time apparently even bound. He thought to himself, not wanting to share this knowledge with his sentry, _These are not the bruises that I had this morning. They were not on each wrist and not bleeding like this. Ada could not have made these new marks._

Kalin, his irritation and wrath growing at the damage to his friend and Prince, now held the laegel by his shoulders to keep him from moving away, to force Legolas into looking at him as he pled, “Tell me how this happened. Please. Who has done this?”

Befuddled, the younger Wood-Elf told his sentry, “I do not know, Kalin.”

Already the sentry was shaking his head in disbelief at Legolas’ declaration and he meant to argue, to learn from his Prince who had hurt him so that he could find said person and relieve him of the despicable hands that had wrapped themselves around his Prince’s neck, but just from the confusion on Legolas’ face, Kalin knew the younger Elf was not lying.

“I do not know what is happening, but I did not have these bruises last night at the feast, and upon waking I had them,” Legolas whispered to himself, wrapping his arms around his middle in semblance of comfort. His sentry turned him towards the meager illumination of Ithil to see better the awful wounds on the laegel’s neck. “I remember so little. But I was only in Estel’s company last night and today. Kalin,” he implored, worried that the other sentries would incite trouble if they knew he had been hurt, “tell no one of these bruises. Not until I am sure of their cause.”

Unhappily, the sentry nodded his assent, knowing why the laegel asked this of him, though he resumed his inspection of the horrific wounds.

Legolas left it unsaid that it was possible that Estel was the cause of his injuries. He had no idea how or when the Ranger could have caused them, especially since he had no memory on which to base anything. With Kalin skeptical of him, the Noldor untrustworthy, his father unconscious, the Wood-Elf sentries wary of his intentions, and the Ranger the likely perpetrator of both his father’s condition and the bruises upon his own person, the Woodland Prince had never felt as bereft as he did at that moment.

“We need to leave the valley,” he reiterated, hoping that his sentry would agree with him and not just follow his orders because he was Prince. He needed someone on his side. Nearly pleading, desiring Kalin not to undermine him merely because of the threat of the scar, of his grief, and because the incongruity of their current circumstance might bring about the resumption of both the scar and his grief, the Prince told his sentry, “Our King is in danger, and whoever or whatever has caused all of this can be left behind in the Last Homely House when we go.”

They stood opposite each other for several longs moments. Kalin’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his fair face uncharacteristically divulging every emotion that flickered across it as he silently deliberated the dilemma put before him. Legolas knew without doubt that his sentry would follow the order given him, but he feared to lose his only ally and so did not outright command Kalin’s compliance just yet. Perhaps the sentry saw the fearful desperation that his Prince felt or perhaps he began to see the logic in Legolas’ argument. Something ill was occurring in Elrond’s household and they did not have time to waste figuring it out when the King or Prince might soon be victim to further detriment.

“We are safer in the wilds than in the valley,” the Silvan Prince argued, rubbing at his throat when his voice cracked with pain. The poppy tincture was almost gone from him. In addition to the headache that was growing steadily worse, the injuries done to him were making themselves known.

Legolas could tell when Kalin finally accepted his Prince’s conclusion, for the Wood-Elf’s shoulders wilted, his head dropped, and his kind and stalwart sentry shook his head in unenthusiastic acceptance. “I will go see that we begin preparations to leave,” Kalin promised, begging his Prince, “Legolas, if you are right and the King is in peril here, then from your bruises, you are just as much a target if not the true goal of this plot. Until I return, please do not go anywhere that one of our own is not close by.”

With that, Kalin placed a soothing hand on his Prince’s shoulder in feal devotement before nearly fleeing the room. The sentry wished to see to his task of setting into motion their departure as quickly as possible so that he could return to Legolas’ side, where Kalin would loyally remain until they were back in Eryn Galen, the laegel was certain.

After his sentry left, Legolas finally came out of the pacifyingly dark bathing room and into his candle-bright bedchambers. Just the shift from dark to dim created a pang of agony to erupt in the laegel’s head. The perceptive Faidnil, having heard his Prince's anger earlier in his and the sentry’s conversation, had left the room long ago. He had left it in much better shape, however, and the Wood-Elf sat on the freshly made bed, smelling the sweet summery scent of sundried linens. For a moment, he laid back on the thin blanket, thinking of nothing in particular, though he wrung his hands in ambiguous worry over his father's state. Toxin or not, the Prince would have felt the same all-consuming fear for his King.

_I should be back in Ada's room._

The solidification of his disquiet brought him out of his vague contemplations. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he went to the door. The nausea he felt was lessening but the feverish heat was not dissipating and his head felt like the anvil against which a Dwarf hammered iron. Upon leaving his rooms, Legolas noted that Ninan had not yet stationed guards outside his own doors, which Legolas hoped would continue, as he hated being cosseted and followed. Besides, he would rather they spend their time guarding his father, not him. Bruises or not, Legolas did not fear Estel. The Ranger may have sought out his revenge against the King, but still the Prince did not believe his human lover wished him any harm. Indeed, he felt that if Aragorn had been the cause of the damage to his wrists and throat, then it had been a means to subdue him while poisoning the King.

When he grew close to his father's bedchambers, he could tell that an argument was occurring inside the room where Ninan, along with a few other recognizable voices, were in spirited debate. Even Faidnil's voice piped in among them. His arrival interrupted the conversation occurring between the sentries. Although he heard much of their conjecture concerning the Ranger's involvement in their King's state, Legolas did not pay them any heed. They instantly quieted when noticing that someone approached. What he had heard told him this: the Silvan were eager to blame Estel and were glad that Legolas was now exonerated.

"My Prince," Ninan greeted Legolas, bowing faintly as he hurried to greet the laegel when he walked through the door. Now that the sentry had someone other than his Prince to blame for his King's welfare, he had reverted back to the immaculately respectful facade all good subjects would normally have for their masters. Eagerly, with a smile that foretold his good news, Ninan was glad to tell his Prince, "The King is as he was before, though he has moved often in the last few moments, and once, he raised his arm and shoulder as if to roll to his side, before sighing and settling back as he was before."

"Did he?" Legolas nearly sulked in displeasure to have missed this occurrence, though a pleased grin graced his face with true warmth for the news, and while he was not aware of it, the watchful sentries and Faidnil were heartened with the further evidence against their Prince's involvement with the King's illness, for surely the Prince would not have been so excited to see his father awaken should he have caused the King’s slumber, whether deliberately or by accident. "It is good news. He is coming back to us, if only slowly."

Like some unfortunate parent having missed his Elfling's first step, Legolas rushed to his father's bed, as if the King might repeat the action at any second. Sitting at the edge, he reached out to take his father's hand; Thranduil’s fingers curled slightly around the laegel’s own.

“Ada is fighting it, whatever the cause,” he told them, bringing his father’s hand to his chest, where he held it tightly against his thrashing heart with both of his own hands.

The sentries all nodded enthusiastically at Legolas' good cheer. The Silvan needed their Prince hopeful and healthy; being as Thranduil was unable to lead them, it was Thranduilion who was in charge for the time being. His recent woe and sorrow, grief-borne lunacy, and their recent suspicions of the laegel aside, the Wood-Elves would follow Legolas unless he proved unfit. None of them wanted this to happen, for the bedlam that would ensue in a leaderless Eryn Galen would be bad for all the Silvan Elves. And so, it was keenly that the Wood-Elves abandoned their misgivings for the Prince. With refreshed devotion, his kith were zealous to protect him from the same harm that had come to their King.

It was with this in mind that Ninan came to the Prince to tell him as Kalin had suggested a short while earlier, saying, “From now on, Legolas, your sentries should be with you. I would not have you walk the halls of the Last Homely House alone, not if you are unsure who is friend and who is foe.”

Unlike Kalin, Ninan did not question Legolas’ reasoning for blaming Estel for the condition of his King – not yet, anyway. The laegel had said in the hall when accusing the human that he could not yet prove it was the Ranger’s doing, and for Ninan, this meant that it was only Legolas’ word against Estel’s word, but he would easily side with his Prince against a human, even Elrond’s foster son.

The Silvan Prince agreed reluctantly with a nod of his head. He fidgeted with the front of his Ada’s shirt, the one that the King had been wearing since last night. "Ada would not be pleased to be wearing the same clothes he wore the day before with anyone in attendance of him," the Prince mused aloud, knowing his father to be vain in such matters.

"I can call Faidnil to come back, if you wish," Ninan offered, coming to stand beside where Legolas sat on his father’s bed, "or we can change his clothing. I believe you are right," the King’s most trusted guard told him, knowing Thranduil for longer than Legolas had been living. “If he were to awaken right now, he would no doubt become irate with us for neglecting such a small detail,” Ninan said, giving his King a meaningful, brief touch on the shoulder.

The Prince laughed lightly in agreement, his mood still eased by their news of the King’s increasing sentience. “That will be fine, Ninan. Find something for us to put on him, and I will start to undress him.”

Together they performed the task of changing the King’s clothing. Thranduil had been unconscious for a little over a full day, if his insentience had begun the night before, a fact of which none of them was certain. After done, they stood together for some time, watching the King. Earlier in the day it had seemed that Thranduil slept in a light reverie where his body was alert while his mind was wandering, as Elves often did to find rest in dangerous places or even while riding horseback – yet, normally an Elf could easily snap out of said reverie, her mind returning from its wandering to rejoin the alert body. This had not happened for Thranduil. He had been able to imbibe small sips of broth, his body acting automatically to swallow it, but now it seemed that the King had relaxed into a deeper sleep and that even the small movements of his eyes, fingers, and lips had stopped. If not for the steady breathing of their King, both loyal subjects might have thought the insensible, if ostensibly hale King was dead.

 _Perhaps he is only truly asleep now,_ the laegel hoped. _Perhaps in the morning he will wake as if none of this had happened. At least let him waken enough to drink more water,_ the young Elf pled to no one in particular. It would take many days for the King to begin to wither away from lack of water and food, and although Legolas wished he could trust his father’s welfare to staying in the valley, if the King did not waken or his sleep lighten enough to take liquid sustenance before their departure or on their way to Eryn Galen, then it was likely that Thranduil would die from dehydration before ever reaching home.

Thinking of the coming dawn incited within Legolas a desire to leave. He had some task to which to attend, although it wasn’t clear to him what it was. Turning suddenly solemn, motioning for Ninan to follow, Legolas walked with the sentry out to the sitting room, telling him, “I need to rest for a while, so I can be here all tomorrow with the King.” He explained to them, causing his fellow Silvan to look at him with compassion, for they were witness to their Prince's exhaustion and turmoil, and gladdened further by the Prince’s intentions to stay by his Ada’s side the following day, "See to it that I can be undisturbed for a few hours. I will return after dawn."

It was understood that they would wake their Prince if the King's state changed.

"I will place two guards outside your door," Ninan warned before the laegel could leave, not asking as he expected not to be challenged. "And please, Legolas, Kalin should be with you at all times."

As a child, the Prince had been wont to sneak off from his teachers, guards, and nursemaids to do his own exploring. Many was the time that Ninan, long one of the royal guards although only in the past millennium the King’s captain of the sentinels, had helped in some search party for the wayward Prince of Mirkwood. It was not unlike the laegel to pull elaborate ruses on his guardians, ploys from which he had taken inspiration from the twins as youths, so that he could have time without their constant supervision. As an adult, he hadn’t needed to sneak away and had merely ordered them to leave him be so that he could spend time in Imladris or in the wilds with the twins and Ranger without their constant coddling.

“I promise,” the Prince said with a weary smile, fully expecting to keep this pledge, though it was Mithfindl’s will he would follow regardless. He did not mention to Ninan that it would be some time before Kalin would be finished with his task. Legolas left his King in the good care of his faithful sentries, his mind now on the chore he had been given. In a few hours, it would be dawn, and Mithfindl expected his arrival before then. 


	22. Chapter 22

After Legolas had denied them the chance to use the tonic the twins had prepared, it was without speaking that the Elrondion family had withdrawn to collocate their knowledge and suspicions in private, the unemployed medicine still in Elrond's hand, unused and seemingly not to be used if together they could not find a way to convince Legolas to allow Elrond to dispense it. They had moved collectively through the familiar walkways, the Ranger barely suppressing his indignation. Only Elrond had seemed unaffected, although his adopted father would have many questions and much to say on the matter. To most, the Elf had appeared unflustered; to Aragorn, he had seen the latent wrath in his father's face. The Imladrian Lord did not appreciate secrets and artifice in his house and would allow neither.

 _What has poisoned Legolas against us?_ he now wondered, his eyes only for Elladan’s tunic as he followed the irked and alarmed twin Elves, who followed their father down the hall to the healer's storeroom. As one, without needing to speak amongst themselves, the family had all known that they would be headed to the apothecary, though usually they would have met in their Ada’s study for the palaver that was needed. _Not one of his own has fed him these lies, surely. I cannot claim to know the intrigues of Thranduil's court, but I doubt any of the Silvan guards would be able to turn our Greenleaf against us._ He could not imagine anyone but Thranduil benefiting from these circumstances, though such a situation could barely even advantage Thranduil and the King would have needed an accomplice to see that while he was unconscious the Prince was manipulated into doing as Thranduil wanted – that is, going home while simultaneously discarding the Ranger. _The King is mad, but he is not suicidal. He would not risk his life to force Legolas into returning home with him. At least, not when he could find so many other ways to get what he wants from Greenleaf._

In dread, his mind derived many different causes for Legolas' disloyalty; most of these pertained to the laegel's healing faer and the effects of the grief-born voices the Prince had heard during the worst of his sorrow. To Estel, it did not matter what caused Legolas' eschewal of trust, just that he earned it again. The Wood-Elf was crumbling before their eyes and they could currently do nothing to stop it.

"Estel," the Elf Lord whispered harshly, the halcyon demeanor of before gone in a momentary flash once the ancient door to the apothecary was closed, all of his family inside the room that was lit only by the fireplace. "What is this treachery?"

All three Elves in the room turned to him, expecting from him an answer that he wasn't sure he could give. He had no idea of anything at the moment. "This can't be happening," he thought aloud, shaking his head at his father, as he continued, "not here. I do not know what to tell you."

Much like he had seen the Lord of Imladris many times as an often troubled and troublesome child, Estel viewed his Ada walk to him with disappointment and a speech forming behind his pursed lips, though what he had done wrong the Ranger honestly could not say.

"What has happened?" Elrohir interjected, perhaps seeing the impending lecture as well and intending to save his human brother from it.

"Why do the sentries watch you as if you would attack Thranduil where he lies?" his elder half added, both coming to stand on either side of their father.

He tiredly sat on the bench, no less in the same spot his Elven lover had sat months ago when explaining to Elrond the atrocities forced upon him in the forest and Lake-town, though he could not have known it. Against the wall, the same bottles of dried herbs and their various oils and tinctures lined the walls, giving off similarly colored light. Aragorn shook his head again, explaining to his father, to all of them as he looked up at the trio of Elves, "After we spoke to Legolas when we tried to get him to eat, I sought him out again in his father’s rooms, where he said he would be. When I did not find him there, I waited, but Kalin arrived and together we left, intending to seek out Greenleaf. Instead, I spoke to Kalin for a while in private. When next I saw Legolas, it was in the hallway near where Kalin and I had been conversing. I do not know where he was before then, but when I tried to go to him, to see that he was well, through no provocation of mine, Legolas accused me of causing the King's condition in front of his kin,” the Ranger explained, seeing for himself on the twins' faces the same surprise and confusion as he felt at the unwarranted allegation.

“Why would he say such a thing, Estel? Why does he accuse you?” Elrond asked. The twins and elder Noldor moved away with the twins going to the table and their father sitting near Aragorn.

“I do not know. When I reached out to him,” he continued, not needing to elucidate as to why he’d been interested in touching the Prince, “he avoided me. Upon trying again, he threw me off him. His sentries came through the hall, and seeing this and thinking that I was harming their Prince, they moved between us so I could not get to Greenleaf. Which is when he accused me of being the cause for the King’s condition. Shortly thereafter, we came to find you,” he told Elrond, “to seek your advice.”

“He would not let us touch him either.” Elladan and his twin had hopped upon the plank table to sit, both positioned in front of the human and their father. The younger twin told them, "Earlier, when we found him in his rooms. I tried to put my hand on him and he was in such a hurry to avoid me that he almost fell to the floor."

"He would not let you touch him?" the healer asked his sons rhetorically, all of them coming to their father's unspoken affirmation that he believed it to be the scar that influenced their Greenleaf's thinking. The master healer looked down to his lap, where his hands, ancient and wise and having touched more broken flesh and bone to heal than most warriors had in harm, were folded in the cloth of his robe. Elrond was not normally one to fidget, but the Noldo was twisting the golden adornment upon his finger, the magical ring that kept his home and valley free from the darkness that plagued other lands. Unfortunately, as far as they knew, vilya could do little for these troubles inside the Last Homely House.

"Short of abducting him and holding him down, how else would we bring him away from his grief's influence?" the elder twin despaired, getting to the core of their dilemma without hesitation. From where he sat on the table, Elladan shifted so that he could place his legs under him, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees – Elrohir followed suit only a moment later, not copying his twin’s actions, truly, but merely seeking the same comfortable position at the same time, as if the two identical bodies had come to the same accord. "We might have once had the support of his guards but now that they are suspicious of Estel, they doubt our allegiances."

“And what is to stop us from doing it?” the Ranger asked them. The human was more than willing to snatch the Prince to achieve this end. “If it brings Legolas from his detachment and distrust, then he can explain to his sentries afterwards how we have helped him.”

Elrond's nose curled, as if he could smell the ill that would come from any subterfuge on their part. The healer doused that idea at once, looking directly to Estel, as he said, “No, I do not like it. For now, we abide by what Legolas and his kinsmen desire – if leaving their Prince alone is his and their wish, then we will grant it. All of us," he stressed, again turning his fervid emerald eyes to Estel. “First and foremost, we need Greenleaf and his sentries to remain safe here in the valley, so we must give them no reason to hurry their departure. Kalin is right. It is foolish for them to travel with the King, which means that something has caused Legolas to fear for his father greatly to risk Thranduil’s health for their departure.”

None of his sons argued, but Elrond continued as if they had, for although they would obey their father's dictum, they were obviously nervous about its effects on Legolas. He chastised them gently, "Do not despair that Thranduil will never awaken, with or without our aid. I begin to suspect as Legolas and his kin have altogether implied – the King is poisoned. If it is a toxin, it acts most peculiarly and is not one of which I know. Any poison seeking to kill him would surely have succeeded by now, unless the poisoner did not give him enough, in which case he may yet live. It is more likely, however, that they did not poison Thranduil to kill him, but to remove him from the way, though to what purpose, I cannot guess, nor for how long, since we have no knowledge of what he was given."

"Who would benefit from poisoning the King? Why are they so ready to blame me?" he asked them, thinking of how he had aided Legolas in Mirkwood, and how surely the sentries would know that he had more wits than to hurt Thranduil to be with Legolas, if only because his Greenleaf would never forgive him.

Ever patient and ready to teach, Elrond's lips curled into a momentary sardonic smile, before he asked with one of his questions that always answered the question put to him, "What would they _believe_ you to gain, _Ranger_?"

It was suddenly plain why the sentries would believe that a poor human would prove to be the culprit. Having already been chosen as consort of their Prince, it would be felicitous to Estel to ascertain his part of such wealth and standing, when by the sentries' knowledge, he had claim to none. He had turned away from a path in life that might have gained him access to such wealth, and so the Wood-Elves might consider that he would seek a path garnering him similar benefits with much less hardship.

 _The Silvan think I would seduce their Prince and then rid myself of his father, just to have access to Legolas' inheritance, to his royalty._ He could tell his brothers had already come to the conclusions of their father from the way they looked at him, even though they all knew that Aragorn had no such desire for Legolas’ royal birthright. _Do the Wood-Elves not even question if Greenleaf’s accusations are true?_

“Did you note how flushed he was? How he sweated, as if with illness?” the elder twin asked about Legolas, and all of the family, all knowledgeable in the art of healing, nodded that they had.

“He said it was from too much wine and too little food with dinner,” the younger twin went on, rubbing his hairless, well-made chin thoughtfully between two fingers. “He told us that it had soured his stomach, although I do not believe I have ever seen an Elf sweat just from drinking.”

"Wine?" the Ranger inquired with surprise. "He had no wine at supper, nor did he eat a bite. He came with Ada and I to his rooms for dinner," the human deliberated aloud, shifting in his seat to spare a glance at Elrond to see what the master healer thought, to see if his father knew more than he of the matter, "but he neither drank nor ate that I saw. Before that, we were in Thranduil’s rooms, and Legolas neither ate nor drank there."

Elrond responded to his human son's unspoken question, “I did not see Legolas eat or drink anything, either, and I am not certain why he would lie about it. What he did in the time between accusing Estel and you two finding him in his rooms, we do not know, however.” For a few moments, the three Elves and human sat quietly, the fire intermittently casting shadows then illuminating them in coruscations of ocherous light. It had already been a long night and would prove to be longer.

Estel tried to figure out why the Prince would lie about something as simple as being given wine at supper. Lingering under his conscious thought was the understanding of the importance of this information, but Aragorn could not suss it out. Recalling Glorfindel’s warning to him, however, he thought to tell his brothers and father, “Speaking of wine: Glorfindel told me that Mithfindl and Thranduil shared wine over the course of their journey from the outlands to the valley. He said that Mithfindl had been trying to insinuate his way into the King’s graces – apparently with some success.”

Each of Elrond’s family sat lost in their thoughts, for they really did not have any clue as to the nuance of these events, until Elrohir finally said, “Yes, but if he had poisoned the King on the trip here, surely it would have shown some effect prior to the night of the feast.”

“Especially since Mithfindl did not see Thranduil or Legolas that night,” Elladan said, finishing his twin’s thought. “Although Legolas acted drunk, there were no wine bottles in Thranduil’s rooms come morning.”

“How do we know that Mithfindl did not see the King or Legolas that night?” their father asked them and himself, having no answer to this question, as they did not, but putting it to them nonetheless as together they thought through the possibilities as to what was occurring. Elrond settled back in his seat upon the bench, crossing his legs at the knee and folding his arms over his chest. He looked off towards the fireplace and away from his sons to ponder, “Although I am not sure why Mithfindl would seek to gain Thranduil’s favor only to render him unto sleep. It gains him nothing.”

Therein laid the very conclusion that Estel had drawn. He could find no one that would benefit from the King’s insentience.

“Unless our Greenleaf remembers, or the King awakens and remembers,” their father said decisively, “then we have no proof to make any accusations against anyone, much less Mithfindl. It is just as likely that Legolas said he had too much wine just to cover up his faer’s sickness. We cannot know.”

The twins looked to each other, sharing an understanding that Estel wished he knew the meaning behind, but which made him guess, _We may have no proof, but I get the feeling that my brothers will do their own investigation into Mithfindl’s whereabouts, even without Ada’s consent._

“Did you notice any bruises on him?” their father asked his identical sons, and when both twins responded negatively, he told them, “Earlier, while you sought the remedy for Thranduil, when Estel and I sat with Greenleaf in his rooms, we saw that he was bruised along his side. He has several small tears to his scalp, as well, and contusions around his throat and wrist.”

“That lends more credence to Thranduil being the cause of this,” the elder twin admitted, turning to face his human brother as he asked, “But did you not see Legolas last night? He had the bruises then?”

“I do not know,” the Ranger admitted. He had not seen his lover unclothed the night previous. "Last night, after coming back from Thranduil’s room, he came into his chamber and went straight to bed, neither removing the clothes he wore to the banquet nor speaking much. He seemed neither upset nor injured, however. It was not until this morning when we awoke that I found he was bruised, and Legolas could not explain from where the contusions came. Kalin arrived only moments later with news of the King."

The Elf and Ranger had not really had time to converse on these matters. All of this had happened so quickly, the human could not agree, not wholeheartedly, that it was the laegel's grief that caused this distrust, not when so many of the day’s occurrences seem to have been orchestrated for this outcome. He thought again of Mithfindl, but dissuaded by his family from blaming anything but the scar, the Ranger put the foul warrior from his mind. Either Legolas had been with him or his sentries for the better part of the day save for when the Prince was in his room.

 _Mithfindl does not have the wits to construe such a plan,_ he decided, ignoring that lack of wits might also be the reason behind the culprit’s actions. _As we all agreed, Mithfindl does not gain favor in Thranduil’s court with the King asleep, and I know Mithfindl will find no favor from Legolas._

“Is there anything else that you know that could aid us, Estel?” the master healer asked, and then turned to his twin sons, repeating to them, “Is there anything you might have left out?”

He thought to tell them what he feared – that somehow, his resumption of pleasurable activities with Legolas, part of the reason the laegel had suffered so greatly after his torment by the merchants, had also resumed the Prince’s dormant sorrow, causing the Elf to doubt and question himself now as he had then.

“Do you truly think that Legolas believes I am the cause of this?” he asked them instead. They had known their Greenleaf for millennia, while Aragorn for only as long as his short human life had so far allowed. “Would he leave the valley with Thranduil, out of fear that my love for him is the cause of Thranduil’s sorrow? Or in fear that I have poisoned the King?”

“Legolas would do what was necessary for his father,” the healer intimated, not disagreeing or agreeing with Aragorn outright. “As would his sentries. We must hope that Thranduil wakens or that Legolas’ trust returns.” Placing a heavy hand on the Ranger’s shoulder, Elrond swept aside the long, curled hair there, adding, “Besides, it would not be your love for Legolas that sorrows Thranduil, it would be Legolas’ love for you.”

If intended to cheer him, the master healer was failing miserably. Nevertheless, more likely, knowing his father, the Imladrian Lord was teaching, as always. Estel was in no mood for lessons.

Elladan hopped off the table, tending the sputtering fire in the hearth, while Elrohir suddenly found the sole of his boot of great interest. Finally, the younger, more boisterous twin could take it no more, and hopped off the table as well. He crossed his arms over his chest, the cloth of his tunic tightening over the broad muscles there. "Then we merely wait for Legolas to come to his senses? If we believe that someone has poisoned Thranduil, then Legolas is in jeopardy, as well."

They were silent for some time, each lost in his thoughts of how best to attend that worry, with the room growing ever brighter, the scintillation of light from the multicolored glass bottles becoming more vivid as Elladan's attention to the fire caused it to blossom, its golden radiance filling the room.

"His sentries are with him," Elladan suddenly told them, although the hair rose on the back of the Ranger's neck at how hollow the assertion truly sounded. The elder twin turned away from the fire and to them, adding somewhat more reassuringly, "Kalin will keep our Greenleaf safe."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Legolas walked as quickly as possible to his rooms, Galendil and Oiolaire in tow. Ninan, as efficient and decisive as ever, had already assigned these two of the Prince's sentries to be the guards outside his door. They had followed in behind him without a word from Ninan – he hated to admit that it was his own voiced suspicions that now caused him to be hounded by the two sentinels, but it just evinced that Ninan had not planned on anything but Legolas' acceptance in having a following.

The pangs in his head were now accompanied by a cold sweat that caused his aching flesh to quiver. He did not hesitate upon reaching his door, but swung it open hurriedly while hoping that Kalin had not yet finished his task of settling the business of their departure. Once Kalin was told he was not to leave Legolas' side, the sentry would not for a single second, likely not even if Legolas asked him. With a surge of hope, the ailing laegel found his chambers empty. He needed to be free of his sentries, to go somewhere for some purpose that he was unaware of, and having Kalin beside him would certainly befoul those plans.

"Goodnight, Prince," one of his sentries called to him as he began to shut the door. He mumbled goodnight back to them. Without a second thought, the Prince went to the balcony. Peering down over the side, his nausea returned full force, and he wondered if he could make it down to the courtyard without being sick or drawing attention.

Even from this height, the lithe Elf could drop to the ground without injury, if he could catch himself with any grace. He’d dropped farther from higher trees since an Elfling. In fact, a tree was nearby to his balcony, its limbs stretching far enough out that he could easily leap onto one and scale down the tree to the courtyard without much effort; however, the illness he felt kept him from wanting to climb any more than necessary. Closing his eyes so he would not need to see the ground rushing at him, Legolas vaulted over the railing. He managed to break his short fall with his hands and feet, rather than collapsing into a pile on the soft grass and dirt. 


	23. Chapter 23

All the months that he had been back in Imladris, from the first time he had brought Legolas to the valley when ailing and grieving from their encounters with the merchants Sven and Cort, Aragorn had stayed in the Prince's rooms as often as possible. At some points, he had even stayed in the Wood-Elf's chambers when the Wood-Elf had not been here. Save for the last few months, for as long he'd been fostered by Lord Elrond as his son, Estel had lived in the room where he now sat, however, and usually it was his own small haven, the place where he could always return no matter where he had strayed in the wilds.

Although he'd not been living in there to make a mess, the Ranger's bedroom was in horrible disuse. His possessions lined the bed, since he had not bothered to put them in the dressers and trunks when finished with them. His weapons were laid out on the floor, although done so carefully on a rug out of the way, but not in the cabinet where he usually kept them. It had not seemed necessary at the time to do any of these things because he had been sleeping in Legolas' bed and merely storing his things in here. The musty smell of the place showed just how long it had been since he had even been bothered to open a window.

 _I will never sleep in here. My bed is with Legolas. I will never rest again without him,_ the Ranger knew to be true. The Wood-Elf was more than under his skin: he ran through the human's blood. Legolas had chosen Estel even when it might mean the end of the immortal. Aragorn would not let a day go by without proving himself worthy of the Prince's gift to him.

Opening the window was first on his agenda. Once this was done, and with the cool air of the night breeze coming in, the Ranger suddenly felt more listless and alone. Normally, by this time, the two lovers were safely ensconced in the laegel's rooms, where the Ranger would be plying the Elf with tea to ease the pain of his mending leg and then massaging the sore muscles. This nightly ritual had been as much for the human as it had been for the Prince. Last night they had no time, for Legolas had gone straight to bed. Tonight, as well, there would be no tea and warmed oil, no loving play afterwards. There would be no assurances that his lover was safe.

He heard a voice, and believing he heard it say goodnight to the Prince, immediately crossed the room and silently opened his door, hoping to find that Legolas was entering or exiting his chambers, and most of all, that the Prince was alone. On the latter, he was disappointed, as two Silvan followed behind Legolas. He saw the flash of his lover's blond hair pass through the portal to his room and heard Legolas say something to his sentries, and then the door to the Elf's chambers was shut forthwith. The two Mirkwood sentries were now standing at the laegel's room, though their gaze had been on Estel the moment his door had been wide enough out of which to peer. Oiolaire and Galendil nodded in greeting to the Ranger, but he did not mistake their cordialness with friendliness. They would keep him from Legolas as they had been charged to do, regardless of whether they agreed with their Prince’s suspicions or not. He may have missed a chance to speak to Legolas, but as he closed his own door and slowly walked back to the open window, the Ranger considered, _At least with his sentries guarding him, no ill can come to Greenleaf._

Naturally, the Elves could likely hear every sound he might make while in his bedroom, and had probably even heard him walk to his door long before he'd opened it. Undoubtedly, they would also hear anything from Legolas' room, too, as close as they stood to the door. It seemed that the Silvan were taking no more chances with Legolas’ care. Walking in a disjointed circle around his chamber, Estel thought of the laegel's room and what the Prince was currently doing across the way. _I could just walk over there to find out. Would he refuse me at the door?_

He wondered if the Elf's thigh ached, and if any of his sentries had ensured that the Prince was given something for the pain of his healing muscles. He also wondered if the Wood-Elf was truly sleeping, as the guards had intimated, or if he was devastated, shattered in his room, under the thrall of the scar again. The imagining of this frightened him even more and the Ranger thought longingly of his pipe, feeling in need of its calming familiarity. The pipe was in the Elf's room and he thought with a mirthless grin, _Would be a worthy enough excuse to knock on Greenleaf's door to ask for my pipe._

However, Estel knew better. The sentries would not let him near enough to the door to knock. Even though the Last Homely House was the closest to home that the Ranger could remember ever having, he would be the one making concessions for the Silvan. They likely wouldn't let him pass the Prince's room in the hallway without asking for reason, much less let him enter for his pipe. It brought his thinking back to whether the laegel was suffering in his rooms alone, and how much he wished to be in there to end it. The Ranger began his pacing again.

 _They will not check on him,_ he thought of Oiolaire and Galendil. _They will not comfort him as one of us could,_ he worried, wishing that his father or brothers, and most of all himself, could see the Prince without interference from his sentries. He could not sit here waiting, hoping that Legolas was well within his chambers, when in his being there thrummed an unending and escalating foreboding that his Greenleaf's verdure was in doubt.

 _If I could even get them away from the door,_ he thought, his mind turning to what he would do, should he actually get the Prince alone. _I could lock his door, take him out on the balcony, and hope that the Silvan are late to react, if I could find how to get past them._

He knew that his father would rather him not, as would the Silvan sentries. In fact, only a short while previous he had been told explicitly not to do what he now planned. He knew the possible ramifications of being caught, especially if he had not managed to bring the Elf out of his disconnection ere they tried to stop him. Once before, he had brought his lover from numbed grief by force. He would do it again, if he had to. He owed it to Legolas to try.

He stopped before his bed, eyeing the many items he'd have to move if he wanted any sleep at all tonight. He wouldn't bother. He had no chance of sleep with so many worries and the night was half over anyway. _I cannot just wait here. Legolas may be in his rooms in sorrow right now. If the scar has turned him against us, then there is no telling what it may convince him to do._

The Ranger was young but had seen much in his short time on Arda, with more travail yet to come. However, nothing had ever horrified him, had stuck festering in his mind like a thorn broken deep beneath the flesh and left there too long, than seeing Legolas lying in a pool of his own blood in the bathtub of his rooms in Eryn Galen. When the laegel had been desperate enough to hew his own flesh, he had eschewed all those around him who sought to help him – including Estel. His tormented faer had been trying to survive the only way he knew how; that is, by isolating himself from everyone out of fear that one of them would break his faer's fragile hold on his rhaw. If it were not grief, if someone were responsible for torturing the Wood-Elf, Estel would bring the culprit to a violent halt. The longer he went on enduring the thought of the Prince believing him to be the one who had poisoned the King, the more the ominous anxiety grew inside him, until he knew that he didn't care if his father were angry with him or if the sentries found him and beat him gory – he could not wait there without knowing that Legolas was well and trying to convince the Elf that he was not responsible. If the Elf kicked him out and hated him still, then at least he knew the laegel was fine for now. He would worry about the consequences later – it was one of the young human’s many talents.

His mind made up but without a plan of action, the Ranger went to the window. Being that he'd been given the room years ago, when still a curious toddler, he'd been placed in a room where there was no balcony attached. The windows were wide and allowed in a fresh breeze from the river all summer long, however, so the Ranger had never minded and had never asked to be moved. He peered out the window in concentrative cogitation, looking out across the pleasance and appreciating the zephyr coming off the water.

 _I cannot just wait here,_ he told himself yet again, though he had hitherto not figured out how to get to the Wood-Elf without having to deal with the Silvan sentries.

A memory of a prank he and the twins had pulled on the Wood-Elf a long ago came to mind, carried on the scent of the flowering vine that grew up the rock out of the tended terrace above him. It had been the first summer he'd met the laegel, who had come to the valley to visit with his second family. By the end of that summer, the human had been artlessly infatuated with the Elf Prince, and had accompanied the twins and Wood-Elf wherever they went, despite often being too young to have been tagging along. One of the last few nights before the Prince and his sentries were to head back to the tainted forest of their homeland, the twins had talked their human brother into helping them to pull an innocent prank on Legolas.

To pull off this prank, Estel had climbed down the thick, flowering vines of the same sort on the opposite side of the house, which grew downwards as well from the floor above. Above this part of the house where the Elrondion family had its rooms were Elrond's massive study, library, and apothecary, which took up the entire upper floor of the family wing of the house. Trays filled with herbs and plants growing in pots lined the floors above, and created a fragrant shade to the areas below. Climbing down one such plant – a woody, hardy vine that had been propagating in the massive pots above for so long that it had become a permanent fixture to the outside wall of the house itself – he had been able to scale the leafy, thick, natural ladder until he could merely step down upon the railing of the Prince's balcony. From there, Estel had only to open the sealed jar he'd been given just inside the laegel's open doors, and then wait. It hadn't taken long before the multitude of crickets, suddenly freed from their captivity in the jar of leaves they'd been held in, began chirping noisily, waking the Prince and keeping him awake for the rest of the night. It had taken Legolas until the night of his departure to find and gently release the crickets back out into the wild because, of course, the best part of the prank for the twins was that Legolas would not let anyone just sweep them out – or worse yet, smash the poor critters.

 _He could have tromped me with a prank in return,_ the human thought, lost in the pleasant memory for the moment. _But he let me win and told me I had bested him._

The twins usually pulled elaborate ruses, but they had thought of one that their young adopted sibling could see through easily. Legolas had graciously accepted his defeat, and it had endeared the Prince further to Aragorn to be accepted as one of the three older Elves in their pranks. The human had only been a child at the time, in comparison to the laegel. By Elven accounts, although Legolas had not aged at all during the transient duration of Aragorn's life, the human was considered an adult. By ordinary human aging, Estel would have lived a third of his life already.

His mind returned to his task at hand. He faltered in purpose when it occurred to him that despite whether he could convince the Prince that he was not responsible for poisoning the King, the laegel had also charged that his love for the human caused his father grief. Legolas had claimed this purpose overtly as to why he was desirous to leave the valley. Estel shook his head, thinking, _Legolas does not love one day then hate the next. Something more than his past sorrow is causing this distrust of me, of all of us._ There was only one way he could be certain.

He could just walk to the floor above and climb down the same vine to the Prince's balcony, but he wanted the sentries to believe him still to be in his own room. The less likely they were to intrude before the Ranger was caught, the more time he had to coerce the Prince in whatever way was necessary.

 _Then there is nothing for it_ , he told himself, hefting his nimble but wide-shouldered form out the small window, _I climb up the house as well as down it._

It did not take much effort for him to find sturdy footholds, and the bulky, long living vine was easy to hold onto, so it was also without much endeavor that he scaled up the side of the wall to one of the open-air rooms in Elrond's study. When parting ways for the night, his father had told the twins and him that he planned to see to the injured under his care, and being as that had not been but an hour ago, the Ranger felt sure he had at least two more hours before Elrond would be done. The chances were good that Elrond would find his way back to his study after tending his patients, for it was his habit. He did not want to be caught on his way back should his father be in the study – if he weren't found out before then, that is.

Without pause and knowing just where each chair, table, pot, and stand sat in the labyrinth of a study, the Ranger trotted across the room in the dark with little toil, until he stumbled through a stack of books and rolls of writing so faint and old that the human couldn't tell what they were as he scattered them underfoot. He did not lose his balance and did not stop to clean up his mess but continued out of the doorway and into another open terrace. His anxiety for the laegel had grown to such heights that he did not even feel it when his ankle struck the underpinning of the balustrade.

He looked below him and to the Prince's balcony before climbing down. _I remember this being a longer fall,_ he noticed with a half-smile of amusement. As a child, Aragorn had passed the test for his brothers, which had been making it down the side of the house without showing fear that night. The drop had seemed much longer because he'd been much smaller. As the Ranger began his descent, he gave the leafy vine under his hands a firmer grip when the part on which he'd been holding came free of the rock face of the house, thinking, _Of course, I was a lot lighter then._

Once on the balcony below, just an unguarded, open door away from his lover, the human paused again. Fearful to be found out too soon, for he had expected the Wood-Elf to know instantly that Estel was at his balcony, the Ranger searched the room through the doorway, seeing nothing out of the ordinary necessarily, except that he had witnessed the Prince come into his bedchambers and now the laegel was nowhere to be seen. Cautiously, he entered, not wanting to startle Legolas should he be somewhere farther within. The human spared the bedroom another brief glance before walking with utmost care to the bathing room, his footfalls softer than any normal human's tread.

His step slowed as he neared the tub. Not set into the floor, as was Legolas' at home, this tub was smaller and on a dais, and Estel had no trouble seeing that it was empty and pristine. He let loose a ragged breath, relief washing over him. The twins had always teased him that he had a fear of bathtubs, which is why he rarely used one, or so they claimed. Now, their sibling ribbing was truth.

His relief was short-lived, however, when it then occurred to him, _I wonder what Galendil and Oiolaire would say to know that they guarded an empty room. Where is Greenleaf?_

Quickly now, though with no more noise than before, the human searched the laegel's room further, looking for something that might indicate where the Prince had gone and why he had left. Nothing was out of place, as such, but something nagged at him. It took the Ranger a moment to discern it, but upon further inspection, the human saw that anything belonging to him had been removed from sight. Estel turned round in a circle, looking once more for a scrap of anything that did not belong to the Silvan. Although he kept most of his possessions in his own room, his pipe, pipe-weed, razor and soap, the clothes he had worn the day before, and other items he used on a regular basis or in the last few days had found their way into the laegel's chambers. Not that he could see any of them now.

It was then that the Ranger noted how the room had been tidied, the bed made, the linen changed and removed to be laundered. He thought with relief, not aware at how alarmed he had been to see how quickly removed from the Prince's life he feared to be, _Faidnil or one of Thranduil's other servants has cleaned these chambers. Legolas would not have bothered with his mind on his father._ It was not terribly endearing to know that one of the servants was already moving Estel out of his lover's rooms. Spying the weave of a basket under the Elf's bed, he pulled it out as quietly as possible. The basket normally contained dirtied towels, but was now filled with everything that belonged to Estel. _At least they did not toss it all out._ Although he took his pipe and weed from the container and placed them in his tunic's pocket, the rest he left, pushing the basket back under the bed. He didn't particularly care if they destroyed the rest.

 _Where could he be?_ he thought of the Silvan Prince.

Listening to the quiet conversation occurring between the two sentries outside, which was an affable but heated argument about fletching for arrows, the Ranger sat upon the edge of the bed. It was just the type of topic that two Wood-Elves would discuss for hours, if given the chance, and the human didn't think he could stand to listen to it while waiting for Legolas.

He wished again for his pipe, and so with a silent sigh told himself, _I may as well go back up to Ada's study and wait for Legolas to return._

Taking a plug of pipe-weed from its leather pouch, the Ranger tamped it into the empty pipe absently, not even noticing as half the pipe-weed he’d pinched to place in the bowl fell to the balcony floor.

He crept back into his father’s study with his unlit pipe stuck between his teeth, looking quickly around to ensure that he was alone still in the massive room, before making his way to the nearest lamp. The oily light of the lamp reflected on the polished writing desk on which it sat, illuminating quills and inkpots of various cut and color. Taking up the thin, wood stick used to light the lamp’s wick, he set it afire and then put it to his pipe. Just as quickly, the human went back out to the balcony above the laegel’s, letting loose a lungful of smoke as he did. The simple pleasure of the pipe had always calmed him, despite his being told repeatedly, jestingly by the twins that it stank and colored his fingers with the weed’s sticky tar.

He considered that the laegel could be poisoned. The Prince's flushed face and sweat damped, lank hair, along with his harried and strange demeanor supported this argument. Poison, however, did not explain why the laegel had forsaken all of his second family. So now, not only did he worry of the laegel suffering somewhere alone in the woods, having left his rooms to grieve without detection, but now he also fretted over the possibility of the Prince being in danger from the same culprit that had possibly poisoned the King. Aragorn sat up straighter, his worry growing as he realized how long he’d been sitting there waiting already.

 _When the sun rises,_ he promised himself. _He has until then before I tell his sentries he is missing._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was once more completely enthralled by the poppy and the periapt, completely submissive and without thought or opinion of his own, ready for manipulation and instruction.

Only half an hour before, the laegel had found his way back to the small storage room under the seldom-used staircase, and much like earlier that night, it had not taken long before Mithfindl had pulled him into the room, used the charm to subdue him, and then plied him with enough of the strong milk of the poppy flower to keep him quiet and willing. Unlike before, Faelthîr had been in the room with Mithfindl upon the laegel’s arrival. Her presence in the cramped space had been the key to Mithfindl being able to place his hand upon the periapt at the Wood-Elf’s neck, for he had been so surprised to see Faelthîr that his first instinct to bolt when seeing Mithfindl had been arrested. His pause had given the Noldo the time to mollify him with the charm before Legolas could act on his impulse to leave.

Faelthîr and Mithfindl had only spoken for a few minutes, but much of their conversation had been Faelthîr relaying information to Mithfindl about Legolas. After sharing her bed with Kalin the night before, using her feminine wiles, professing a healer's curiosity, and adding a bit of the poppy milk to some post-coital wine, she had procured from Kalin the story of the last few months of Legolas' stay in Imladris, his cause for leaving Eryn Galen, and Thranduil's hatred of Estel, among many other lesser-known particulars. Kalin, intoxicated from the poppy as his Prince was now, was never the wiser that he had been drugged into confessing details that would be used against Legolas. So drunk had he been from the feast and his lack of inhibition facilitated by the poppy milk, that the sentry, according to Faelthîr, wouldn’t remember what he’d told her. Although Mithfindl had already learnt of some of Legolas' trials, hearing the details as portrayed by Kalin's tales to Faelthîr had given him a devious desire to hasten his and Faelthîr's good fortunes, and to ascertain that the King of Mirkwood would be eager to leave upon his waking in the next few days, his opinion of the Last Homely House not a fair one. The best way to do this, the two had decided, was to ensure that Legolas was just as eager as the Elvenking to flee his second family for his homeland.

Faelthîr was gone; the laegel lay on the floor in euphoric contentment now that his head had finally quit its agonized pounding. He had heard the conversation between the livestock healer and the warrior, had taken note that they often mentioned his name, but being tired and intoxicated, and told to remain still and quiet, the Wood-Elf had nearly fallen asleep.

"What more can we do to make you hate the Ranger?" the warrior asked congenially, coming to stand in front of where Legolas rested on the stone of the floor.

The Noldo plotted as he watched the meek laegel awake but senseless before him. With Faelthîr gone, there was nothing to stop him from gratification at the Prince’s expense, but he needed for Legolas to remember what happened to him now, just not that Mithfindl had been the one to perpetrate the pain and suffering he was about to extol. Mithfindl grabbed the laegel by the scruff of his neck. He used Legolas' hair as a handle to compel the Prince into sliding across the floor, unable to move his limbs quickly enough to catch himself before he was forced against the wall, and was soon dragged up to his knees before the warrior. Legolas looked up to the Noldo out of curiosity but not fear. For the last half hour, Mithfindl had been plying the laegel with the same sweet tincture as before. Each sip had brought the thralled Elf further into a blissful ignorance that whelmed him in serenity. Earlier this night, the warrior had intended to rush his time with his newfound toy, but now that he had the laegel at his complete mercy, Mithfindl wanted to plan this performance out carefully.

"It is important that you grow to despise the Ranger," the Noldo wondered in thoughtful fury, staring off at the dim light coming muted from behind the rock column nearby where he stood. He looked down at the biddable Elf on his knees before him. "To believe that he has done this," Mithfindl murmured, thinking to himself what steps he would need to take to use what Faelthîr had told him to his advantage.

Mithfindl’s gaze grew soft, his mouth hung slightly ajar as his face filled with the awareness of what power he held over the Wood-Elf. The hesitance of before now gone, the Noldo began to push at the fabric covering the young Silvan’s torso. Continuing as if the laegel were not kneeling before him, listening intently if dull-wittedly to every word he said, Mithfindl added, as he knew that Legolas would have no comprehension unless he commanded it, "There is no uprising against the human, no rumors of his guilt so soon. In case we cannot force your people into accusing the Ranger, out of fear of Elrond or for your and the King’s safety, then we will find some other crime to hold him to account, one for which there will be ample proof... or proof enough for your King and your people to want the human's head on the spiked gate in the courtyard."

Taking two fingers, Mithfindl probed at Legolas' mouth, not quite forcing his fingers inside, but plodding along the outline of the Prince's lips in none too gentle jabs. "Some way that we can kill two birds with one stone," the Noldorin warrior whispered, his mind pondering the minutiae of his new tactic as he spoke them. "So that I can have my desire," the warrior said, finally breaching Legolas' mouth with one long finger, though he only ran it along the front of the Wood-Elf's teeth. "And rid us of the human at the same time."

For a few moments more, the Prince stared up at the Noldo, seeing but not comprehending. It felt good to be sitting as he was, because it stretched the aching muscle in his thigh. Some part of him wondered why he sat there, staring so openly up at Mithfindl. Again, he recalled that he was needed elsewhere, that he despised the warrior, but again the thought drifted from his mind as each corporeal stimulus from his environment pushed all rational thought away with its irresistible gratification. Feeling as fine as he did on the fleeting ecstasy of the poppy milk, he did not remember his father or the events of the past day, and so his mind conjured what was missing, and he found he could imagine nothing better than being with Estel at that moment. As well as he felt, he wanted to have the Ranger massage his thigh, and then crawl into the bed with Aragorn, the Ranger's herb tea warming his belly and the human's thick, scratchy stubble rubbing against the back of his neck as they lay together. The image was so authentic that he could almost envision himself there.

"I need my tea," he thought aloud, his head lolling forward as the nimiety of the painkilling extract started to lull him into insentience. Mithfindl had not been careful in his dosage and had nearly given the Wood-Elf too much – enough to drive him into sleep, but not a sleep as deep as that of the King. "Where is Estel?"

"Your tea? Wouldn't you prefer more wine?" the warrior cajoled, thinking his thrall desired more of the milk of the poppy.

Legolas shook his head, the image of the human still real in his mind. "Estel brings me tea every night, for my ache." He only assumed that Mithfindl knew of his injuries. The Wood-Elf was speaking more to hear himself because describing it almost made the imagining more real.

Mithfindl smiled. He did know Estel's habit of giving the laegel tea every night, for he had just heard as much from Faelthîr. Legolas wanted his lover to appear, and Mithfindl was impatient to see it so.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The posted warnings apply for this chapter.

"He is coming, Legolas. He will be here shortly." Mithfindl pushed Legolas back into lying on the floor. Gingerly, as if he truly cared for the Prince, the Noldo told him in the same singsong, soothing voice he had used to quell the laegel's rational thought thus far, saying, "You will not remember Faelthîr or myself being here, will you, Legolas? You came to this room because the Ranger asked you to meet him here. Estel said that he is coming here to talk to you in private. Wait for him here."

It felt wonderful to lie back down. Almost as soon as his head touched the floor and with the help of Mithfindl’s hand upon the periapt, the Prince forgot most anything of concern, just as he was instructed, except that he recalled coming to this strange, small room under the stairs so that he and his human lover could speak alone. Why they needed this much privacy and about what they would speak, Legolas could not recall. The poppy extract was too abundant in his system for him even to remember his slumbering father or his accusation against Estel – at least for the moment. Once the Wood-Elf closed his eyes, there was nothing but the sound of his own heavy breathing to remind him that he still lived, so quiet was his mind for a short while.

 _Estel is coming soon,_ he told himself, sighing in contentment as he waited patiently for his lover to arrive, and absolutely certain that the Ranger was on his way. His thoughts did not drift beyond this supposition – one vilely inseminated in the Wood-Elf's drug-fallowed mind, considering what Mithfindl had planned for him – and he awaited the human's arrival with cheerful anticipation, as he had almost always felt when he expected to see Estel.

He drifted in the bliss of the poppy, almost falling into reverie, for he felt as calm and tranquil as the Bruinen moving outside this part of the house, which was far enough from the falls to be muted into melodic waves of sound, ebbing and growing as other noises from the valley and the great house drowned the river out. Even in his stuporous state, the laegel noticed how different the sound of the river was. Forgetting that Mithfindl was even in the room, the Prince did not recall where he was and came to think that he was in his own chambers, waiting for the Ranger. There, much closer to the great waterfall that evinced the aptness of being part of a river named Bruinen, the river was always a crashing, noisome backdrop that had often lulled the Wood-Elf into sleep at night. He had grown to love that sound and had not slept a night in the Last Homely House without it. Just as he was beginning to speculate about the odd dissimilarity in the river, Legolas felt that his hands were being drawn behind him, which rolled him to his side. Now encased in rough rope wound forcefully, quickly around his wrists, the laegel opened his eyes, trying to raise his head in vague unease, all thoughts of the Bruinen gone. Only a moment later, a soft cloth was wound around his head, covering Legolas' eyes, and then was tied tightly at the back. He could see nothing past the dark cloth. For a moment, the Elf thought he was waking from a dream. He’d been lying there for no more than half an hour in his distrait condition, and during this time, the effects of the poppy were slowly wearing off and his rational mind returning, and in tandem, his sleepiness began to abate.

"I am here," a soft, mysterious voice whispered. Legolas recalled that Estel had been coming to see him, and he assumed, with the aid of the previous extract he had been given along with Mithfindl's insinuative assurance that the human was on his way, that it was Estel with him now. Tugging at his hands in an effort to help himself sit, he remembered hazily that they were tied, thinking, _Estel will remove these binds. And this blindfold. What has happened?_

"Estel? Release me," he asked no louder than the human had spoken. Out of habit borne from many years in the wilds with the twins, the Ranger, and his own people on patrol in their dangerous homeland, Legolas matched the human’s whispering though he did not know why the Adan was trying to be quiet. Again, he wrenched his wrists against the binds, wondering what had happened or what trick this was that would cause somebody to tie his hands.

"Your father is still unconscious." Close by, as if Estel were standing beside him, the human told the laegel, "He is going nowhere, so you have no place to be. You and I have much to discuss in the meanwhile."

He may have temporarily forgotten about his father because of the bliss-inducing medicine, but as the Ranger had just reminded him that he needed to be by his father's side, the laegel was now in no mood to endure another moment of captivity. Suddenly, the Elf’s mind supplied the events of the last day. _Estel has poisoned my father and now he has tied me thusly._ Perhaps this was the Ranger's idea of forcing the laegel to listen, to plead to him his innocence, but the Prince would set him straight. Despite that the Ranger had poisoned the King, Legolas still fully believed that Aragorn would not hurt him, and told himself, _I would think this a joke, but Estel would not be so unkind to me._ And he _would_ think it a joke – if he thought the human would cruelly bind him after he had been bound and also abused – and in the Ranger's presence no less.

He still trusted the human... with himself, anyway.

Growing angry at the human’s audacity, the laegel tried to pull his hands free despite how futile and painful his attempts proved to be, still deeming that Estel would release him and whatever farce this was would stop. Mayhap the Ranger had some point he intended to prove or thought Legolas had gone mad. The last time his hands had been tied – that he could remember, anyway – the healers in Mirkwood had secured him to the bed to keep him from gouging at his maltreated thigh. Since he had the vague feeling that he had been sleeping or otherwise insentient, the Wood-Elf suddenly feared that perhaps the human had good reason to have tied him. Perhaps the maleficent scar had returned.

"Estel?" the bleary Prince asked again, although what he wanted to ask was why the Ranger had bound his hands and covered his eyes, why he was now tearing at the lacings to the Prince's fine leather leggings, and why he would not let Legolas turn over onto his back. His head was beginning to throb from the overload and now withdrawal of the toxins he’d been given. The struggle to comprehend what was occurring through the befuddling poppy milk was expediting his increasing sobriety. He was still under the effect of the periapt – the smooth stone tied into his hair – and it was this stone upon which Mithfindl now placed his hand.

"Yes, it is Estel," Mithfindl lied smoothly, not needing to cover his voice, for his whispers were so quiet that it could have been anyone speaking to the Prince, and using the imprecated charm, the warrior would only need to tell the Wood-Elf that it was his human lover for the Prince to believe it. He had put the blindfold on Legolas just to be sure. He wanted the Prince to remember every detail of what was about to occur and did not want to chance the Wood-Elf recalling his face rather than the Ranger’s face.

"Legolas, do you understand? It is Estel," he repeated caustically, emphatically, to make clear to the laegel who was with him, his free hand struggling at the ties to the Wood-Elf's trousers while his other he kept on the charm.

Still certain that Aragorn would not hurt him, but not liking at all the way in which the human was handling him, Legolas pushed out his legs, seeking to move away from the Ranger and not to harm the Adan. However, his efforts earned him a swift and unexpected smack to his rear, which, although not terribly painful, ceased the surprised laegel’s movements.

 _Estel has never hit me before,_ the Prince ruminated in shock. Unless in the training field or by accident, never once in the years that Legolas had known the human had Aragorn ever struck him, not even playfully. Even in this past week, when slapping at the laegel’s hand when thinking it was some bug crawling upon him, the Ranger had apologized for batting away the Elf’s hand as if he had truly hurt him. The twins and Prince had often shoved, smacked, and tried to drown each other as Elflings and sometimes as adults acting like Elflings, but never the human.

Having finally maneuvered the lacings loose, the human wasted no time in yanking the Prince’s trousers harshly over the Elf's slim hips and did not stop until they were down to Legolas' booted feet. He did not bother to remove the leggings entirely. Twisted around the laegel's ankles, they kept Legolas from kicking out at the human. The Wood-Elf tried once more to use his feet to shove himself away from Aragorn's rough hold of him, for the chill of the stone floor upon his nude flesh incited in the Prince the need to flee, regardless of why Aragorn held him here while he worked to unclothe him.

His irritation growing, Legolas ordered the human, "Estel, untie me."

All the reasons that the human would bind him ran through his mind, and he thought of all these things and how to reason with the human should any of them be the cause. The Ranger could think the Wood-Elf injured, and could be seeking to ascertain the Prince’s well-being. Aragorn could be trying – in a way similar to what he had forced upon the laegel on the balcony those months ago – to pull the Prince free from the scar’s cloying confusion. Since Legolas had accused Estel of poisoning his father, it was likely that the human thought that Legolas would not let him near and so was taking extreme measures to gain control over the laegel’s body and thereby admittance to his thoughts, too.

Trying to muster the self-righteous anger to convince Estel to listen, he repeated, "Whatever aim you have, you can see accomplished without these binds. Enough of this. Untie me."

"Not until I am done with you." Estel groaned as he finally exposed in full the pale, unblemished flesh of the Wood-Elf's back and rear. "And I have not even begun. You accused me of poisoning your father. You will pay for that, true or not," Aragorn chuckled softly, landing another loud smack against the Prince’s rear, this time upon his nude skin.

With a rough hold of the Prince’s hips, Estel flipped the Silvan fully over onto this stomach, before releasing him to take hold of Legolas’ legs under his knees, which he then pushed upwards, forcing the Wood-Elf into kneeling, his knees spread wide so his body was open to the Ranger. Before the drugged Elf could adjust to this sudden, humiliating change in position, the human was touching the Prince everywhere his hands could reach. With his fingers slightly bent so that his nails scraped along the lustrous, alabaster flesh of his victim, Aragorn began to fondle the Prince crudely, grabbing and squeezing the laegel’s legs, his thighs, scratching carelessly the skin of the laegel’s lower back, until he came back to the Prince’s rear. Here, he placed another resounding blow at full force with an open palm, turning the pale flesh instantly paler with the blow, until the etiolated skin blossomed crimson at the abuse.

Legolas endured this for the few seconds it took the human to force it upon him, at least until the frightening familiarity of being so exposed while tied in the presence of another – Estel or not – provoked the Prince to move. He scrambled to place his knees more firmly under him so that he could try to flee or remove himself from the human's clutches, if nothing else. He did not yet consider what the human might intend, for he still loved Estel, despite his suspicions about the human’s involvement in the King’s condition.

"If anyone else had seen you as I had seen you in the forest that day with the merchants, they would know you for what you are, as well," the voice that he believed to be Estel’s whispered. His brows furrowed deeply as he felt the hands on his hips seize him harshly, yanking him by this hold back towards the Ranger, his knees scraping bitingly across the unfinished stone of the floor. “You are nothing but a whore,” the human continued, giving the Prince’s back a lascivious lick in between saying, "It may be the only thing about which your father and I agree.”

Never once questioning that it was as he had been told and that Aragorn was kneeling behind him, spouting invectives that the real Ranger had worked so hard to belie, Legolas felt a shrill pain erupt in his chest, the despair as acute now as when the merchants had taken him, so real did it seem with the periapt and poppy milk helping the Ranger’s imagery along.

 _You are a whore,_ the familiar voice echoed, and the foul, invading tendrils of consciousness that came with the scar's words crept through his addled mind as the grief born manifestation of his faer agreed with his lover's opinion of him. These past months of precious silence from the mar’s hate, of feeling well and more so every day, disintegrated as the scar agreed with the human’s insult. He had thought never to hear the despicable vociferations again, especially in the presence of his lover, but it was the human who had broken through what had turned out to be a thin, salubrious veneer of sanity that had held back the abysmal, underlying madness of the scar. The Wood-Elf pressed his burning forehead to the cold floor, even his currently degrading situation briefly forgotten as the more terrifying return of his sorrow captured his attention. The long-silent voice told him, _Even Estel now realizes you for what you are._

"Why do you..." he began to ask, but something sharp and stiff struck him on the crown of his head, quieting him at once, and causing Legolas' resistance to halt straightaway as his consciousness nearly fled him from the harsh blow.

"Quiet. One day, Princeling, I will have the time to make good use of you." Estel was not to be reasoned with, it seemed. "I find there is nothing like breaking in a wild stallion, feeling it buck beneath me, thrashing as it is tamed by whip and a heavy hand," the Ranger whispered in salacious anticipation. "Well, perhaps you are not as wild as a stallion," he jeered with a mocking laugh, bouncing his still clothed groin against the Prince's spread rear in obvious intent and threat, "since you have already been well-ridden."

His hands gliding up each of the laegel's thighs from the back of his knees to the soft swell of the Prince's rear, the Ranger then used a sharp hold of Legolas' hips to pull him back, before forcing his face harshly against the stone floor. The Ranger ran a single finger between the Wood-Elf's spread rear, teasing the opening to the Prince's body. With the other of his hands, the human held the length of rope that was left after binding Legolas' wrists, which he kept taut to keep the laegel from moving away.

"Why do you do this?” he tried again, asking the human plaintively. He received no response, except the continuance of the Ranger’s painful attentions. The laegel had apparently enraged the human by accusing him of poisoning the King and now intended to punish the Wood-Elf for this insolence. Thinking that the human would release him if he apologized, the Prince said in little more than a whisper, “Enough, Estel, untie me. I spoke earlier in anger. I did not mean to accuse you,” he lied, for he still believed the Ranger to be guilty.

Estel did not respond, nor did he waste time in reaching the object of his interest, but began by gently tugging at the side of the Elf’s opening, stretching it as he watched, fascinated by his own actions, as the submissive laegel did not move at this mild attention. When he slipped his digit within, Legolas sobbed his breath into the stone under his face, and somehow, this wailful sound turned the Adan’s attentions from curious to vicious. Letting loose the Elf's bound hands, Aragorn inserted two dry fingers into the laegel’s orifice, one from each hand, and with these two fingers, pulled as if intending to stretch Legolas' opening asunder.

"Enough," he cried aloud at the discomfort and tried to move forward on his knees to relieve himself of Estel’s probing digits, but again the human grabbed the rope to keep the drugged and still sluggish Elf from pulling away from him. His denial was quickly fleeing him. Estel was doing this with no regard to the Prince’s lack of desire and unconcealed distress. This was no lesson, no game, no trick, and certainly not welcome. Up to this point, the Wood-Elf had been convinced that the Ranger had a motive behind his actions that was in the laegel’s best interest, and as odd as it now seemed, with the human pulling at his flesh as if trying to tear his body in two, Legolas had endured this mishandling so far because he had been certain that Aragorn would never cause him pain intentionally. The human was unquestionably hurting him now, though. "Estel... stop. Please."

Taking three fingers from his left hand, the Ranger forced them to the last knuckle inside the Wood-Elf in a vicious, rapid motion. With his right hand, the Ranger pressed the laegel's face into the crevice where the floor and wall met, stifling the yelp of agony that erupted from the Prince's lips.

_You deserve this, whore._

Instinctively and though he had little room to move, the Wood-Elf tried to draw his body forward, to dislodge the offending fingers that stretched him agonizingly open, but Aragorn would not have it. Grabbing once more the Prince's bound hands with the hand that had held Legolas' head, the warrior wrenched them up, causing Legolas to bow his back at this new pain of having his arms nearly bent from their sockets. Of course, it also caused his back to arch in such a way that the fingers violating him could no longer be avoided, and if anything, it increased their penetration.

"I do not care if I hurt you," Estel whispered to him, emphasizing each word with a brutal thrust of his fingers, adding a fourth to the others. He warned Legolas, "Cry out again and you will find my whole fist lodged inside you," he went on, spreading his digits within the Elf's unwilling aperture, until the Prince was panting to control himself from screaming. The Ranger's words left no doubt in Legolas' mind that something was more than just terribly amiss with his lover. His fear, the memories of his excruciation at the merchants' hands, and the return of the scar's voice, were slowly turning his toxin-riddled awareness into terror.

"Why do you do this?" he queried again in broken susurration, his voice cracking, as if he had truly been letting loose the shrieks of agony that he held back by sheer will.

"Watching the two merchants take you in the woods," the counterfeit Ranger recited from the information Faelthîr had gleaned from Kalin, things told in private to the sentry by Legolas when the human had not been in Eryn Galen for him to talk to, "has made me long to watch you suffer and buck under me. I wish that I could have joined them then."

Legolas turned his shrouded face into the floor; his abject sorrow sapped all the fight from him. Hearing Aragorn say aloud the very fear the Prince had held since that fateful day in the forest – that the human's love for him was tainted by lust for his subjugation – stole the breath from Legolas' chest. Thoughts of anything but the scar left him. It had been right, all these many months.

_Estel does not love you. He desires your ruin and your King’s death. You are a whore for his amusement._

Deciding he'd prepared the Prince enough, Aragorn forced the Silvan backwards abruptly, causing the soft flesh of the Elf’s rear to rub against the Ranger's aroused shaft. He tried again to pull away at the feeling. The human had enough of Legolas’ struggling and let loose the rope. At first, the Prince thought the Ranger had seen sense and decided to stop the unwanted game he played, but Estel reached under the Elf’s tunic to his undershirt, which he grabbed tightly from which to tear several pieces. Estel took some of the cloth in hand to wad it up into a tight ball. With his other hand, he pulled the shuddering Elf’s head back by his hair and promptly shoved the bundled cloth within the Prince’s mouth. With the longest piece of the linen undershirt, Estel slipped its middle between the laegel’s lips and teeth, and with his hold of either end of the long strip of cloth, tied the gag within the Prince’s mouth and thus also fashioned himself a bit and reins both to keep the Prince quiet and to control the laegel's movement.

Even so, the Elf used the human’s inattention in holding him still to try to get away from Estel again, but only managed to provoke the Ranger’s rage even more. “You will pay your penance,” the human told him, rising from where he knelt on the ground to stand over Legolas. Unable to see the Ranger with the blindfold covering his face, the first blow to his side took the Wood-Elf off his guard. From the feel of it, the human had kicked him. Estel did not stop there, but began driving his booted foot into the Prince’s side, his back, his hips, and a few times into the marred flesh of his thigh. Countless times did Aragorn kick the Prince, his boots landing in a new part of the Elf’s body each time, such that Legolas could not anticipate where the next blow would land, and therefore could not seem to evade any of them.

“You will be quiet, and still, and take what is coming to you,” the Ranger warned him again.

The human groaned with what must have been lust to see his captive shaking in his suffering. Even then, the human was not done, but dropped back to his knees beside the laegel, who now gasped to regain the air that the blows to his chest had forced and kept from his lungs. Clasping his hands together into what felt to Legolas to be a battering ram, Aragorn assailed the Elf again, beating him about the head, his shoulders, and then turned him over onto his back to expose his front, which he then targeted for further assault. When the laegel curled up to protect his belly, Estel trounced the Elf across the face. Almost immediately, the incapacitated Wood-Elf tasted blood from where one of the blows had split his lip. Although the milk of the poppy was wearing off, its remnants coupled with the severe thrashing he’d just received quelled the Silvan to the point of insensibility. He laid there unmoving and beaten not just in body but also in spirit, for his wounded and drugged rhaw had no more will to endure than did his freshly grieving faer.

Estel meant to have him and the Wood-Elf could not stop him. The scar told him, _Lie here and take it. Be the human’s whore. Estel has likely had his fill of your insanity, of your neediness. It is no wonder he hasn’t crushed you underfoot before now, as weak and pathetic as you are._

As if he had heard the maleficent voice’s taunt, the human breathlessly chuckled, “You have no idea how long I have desired that.” His wrath spent, Aragorn crawled behind the Elf’s body again to pull a now quiescent Legolas by his legs until he was on his stomach again, and with his hold of the Elf’s hips, he yanked the Elf back to his knees. Slathering his fingers in spittle from his mouth, Estel ran them across the Wood-Elf’s rear, and yanking Legolas’ bound wrists by the rope, and thus his body again to the human, Estel used his other hand to guide his shaft between the Prince’s spread rear and into Legolas’ ill-prepared opening. The Silvan could not help but to gasp in agony and dolor, which caused Aragorn to stop at once, his shaft barely breaching the hapless laegel. Although stifled by the cloth gag in his mouth, his aggrieved, quick inhale was loud enough for Aragorn to hear.

“It hurts, does it not? Good,” the human susurrated to the Wood-Elf as he twisted the rope at the Silvan’s wrists ferociously, earning a distressed moan in response, for the Silvan could manage little else with the cloth of his own shirt still gagging him. Letting loose the rope, Estel grabbed the cloth leash instead and twisted the Elf’s head back, the section between his lips abrading the sensitive corners, which were already growing raw. ”This is your last warning to stay quiet, filth. If you cry out again, I promise you that your father will not live the night.”

The threat against his person the laegel could endure, the abominable threat against his father, the laegel could not abide. Should Aragorn wish to kill him now, as he was already doing in his torment of the laegel, then Legolas would fade eagerly enough. However, the mere mention of the King brought a greater fear to the forefront of the Wood-Elf’s perception, and he closed his mouth tightly over the gag inside it, willing himself to remain quiet so as not to endanger his father.

He was at Aragorn’s mercy. It would only take the human a moment to end the King’s life, and although he had accused Estel of being the cause for his father’s condition, he had no guarantee that the sentries would turn the human away should he try to get close to the King.It might end with Aragorn’s death to exact that promise, but the Ranger had shown he had no regard for his own life when seeking vengeance. _He could leave me tied and kill my father without anyone knowing what was happening,_ the Prince cogitated, all thoughts of escape, of pleading with the Ranger, disappeared at the threat that the laegel was certain was not an empty one.

“There is something very arousing about taking you this way,” the Ranger taunted, resuming his pushing his shaft agonizingly slowly into the Wood-Elf’s opening, grunting at his own exertion to enter the reluctant body under him, “and you have no idea how long I have desired it.”

The human kept pushing forward, despite that the laegel’s body was still excruciatingly dry, his cavity opposing the Ranger’s adamantine shaft through the friction of his innermost flesh. Digging his sharp nails deep into the skin on the Prince's hips, Aragorn used his hold to push the Elf forward on the floor such that the laegel, with no hands to keep himself from the momentum, slid along the stone until his face again struck the wall. With another brutal plunge, the Ranger shoved Legolas farther forward, and each consequent thrust drove his shoulder and head into the stone in an unbearable rhythm. After a few moments of this continued truculent intrusion, Legolas closed his eyes tightly behind the blindfold, hoping that his faer would flee him.

It would not have taken much for the Ranger to cause the Prince to want him – he had wanted the human for months now and had enjoyed his company the past week with loving abandon. But Aragorn did not now want the Wood-Elf’s participation. No, he wanted the Prince to fear him, to feel each thrust into his unwilling body, to relive the torment and anguish that had almost claimed Legolas’ life and sanity – and could still whelm the Elf in the exponential misery of Estel now being the culprit.

 _You accused him of meddling with the King and now he punishes you for it,_ the scar told the Prince, who shut his eyes tighter behind the cloth wound around them, as if willing his consciousness to flee him. _Now you see your true worth to Estel. A slave does not question his master without feeling the bite of the whip._

“Legolas,” the Ranger murmured softly, finally seating himself fully into the laegel.

The Elf could feel the human’s belly against the flesh of his rear, their bodies meeting tightly, but still, the human pushed. Deeper than the human had ever gone before, the man’s shaft bore into the laegel, creating a familiar pain that he had not felt since Kane’s abuse in the storeroom, when the shopkeeper had taken great pleasure in trying to fit all of his ample cock into the captive Elf’s body. Each time the Ranger bounced forward, hitting against the natural impediment inside the Prince, bright pinpoints of light flashed before the Elf's covered eyes, and he tried his utmost not to cry out, not to give the human the reason he needed to inflict more suffering upon the King, as Estel had promised. He sunk his teeth over the cloth wadded in his mouth and also unfeelingly into his tongue, bringing the taste of more blood as he swallowed the scream that almost fled him.

Forgetting his own desire to be quiet so as not to alarm anyone that may be walking in the darkened hallways outside, the human groaned noisily in pleasure. Prying aside the muscled cheeks of the laegel's rear, the Ranger pushed ever harder, placing all of his weight upon where his manhood intruded into the Wood-Elf's body, forcing his shaft into the Elf as far as he could manage. He stayed that way for some time, pressing inflexibly against the Prince, who could not help but to squirm and writhe in an attempt to relieve himself of the thick, long shaft that skewered his opposing aperture and gouged into his depths with piercing, implacable pain.

As the laegel bit harder into the wadded cloth in his mouth, gagging against it as he willed himself not to scream, he heard laughter – Aragorn was chuckling. While the Prince fought not to let his mind give way under the barrage of sorrow that the man's actions brought, the human was laughing at Legolas' suffering. With the flat of his hand, the Ranger slapped the already reddened skin of the Elf's rear, laughing heartily again as the Prince instinctively jumped at the sting, causing only more discomfort as he shifted inside him the human's penetrating shaft.

Without warning, the human pulled free in a single, quick motion, causing nearly as much pain on the way out as in, and then, the human spat on him. Legolas could feel the spittle trickle down the cleft of his spread rear. With the tip of his shaft, the Adan slicked the spit across the Wood-Elf's opening once, before piercing the unyielding flesh in a violent thrust that housed his shaft to the root inside the Wood-Elf once more. Estel held the loop of cloth around the Prince's head in one hand and the length of rope wound around his wrists in the other hand, such that he had the laegel pulled to him, Legolas' back arched. Repeatedly the human let the Prince fall into the slack of his bindings, only to draw him forcefully back. Repeatedly the human rammed his now blood-glistened manhood into the laegel, bringing it almost out of the Prince's opening, and then stabbing his shaft back into the Elf.

The human neared his peak and slowed, not wanting to rush his conquest, or so it seemed to the fraught laegel. The Ranger pulled free of the Prince, though before the laegel had time to hope that his humiliation was soon to be over, Estel drove his shaft back in again, but this thrust he added two fingers, increasing the circumference of the Wood-Elf's abused fissure each time the human withdrew fully, only to drive his shaft and fingers back to the hilt into Legolas' body. There was no pleasure in any of it for the Wood-Elf: he felt only pain. With the merchants, Legolas had found something for which to live in Estel. Now that his reason for living had turned against him, the Silvan only hoped that he would die of grief before the human was done, so that he would not be forced to endure afterwards. That the human sought to bring the Prince as much discomfort as he could only hurried his need to flee his corporeal life.

After the Prince's bloodied and now slick opening had painfully adjusted to this new torment, the Ranger grew tired of it, and he brought his fingers to Legolas' mouth to order, "Lick them clean."

He was not given the chance to obey, even should his horrified mind have recognized the command. Already, the Ranger was forcing his digits past the cloth there and between Legolas’ lips, shoving them roughly against his tongue, and causing the Prince to choke as the cloth of his gag was pushed farther back into his throat. This only made the human chuckle quietly again.

"I can see now," the Ranger told him, pulling his fingers out of the Elf's mouth with an exaggeratedly exasperated grunt, "why your father thinks you so useless."

With his hands still bound behind his back and his faer on the precipice of shattering, the subdued laegel did not struggle when Estel pulled him by the legs to the broken chair across the way. He first positioned the chair so that it lay on the ground with the slatted back facing up, making the whole chair tilt forward until the back touched the floor at its top. The Ranger then folded the Elf’s waist over the seat of the chair such that his long legs were draped over the legs of the chair and his front lay across the back. It was much the same position as he’d been in before. His face was now pressed to the back of the chair but also now his knees were extended far apart, the insides of his thighs bearing the brunt of his weight as the chair legs dug into them, the starburst opening to his body spread before the human like a target – and as if he needed the practice, Aragorn aimed his shaft to hit his objective true, his grip on the Prince's hips unforgiving. The Ranger could now stand as he victimized his captive, which gave the human better advantage in how hard and fast he could thrust his hips forward and thus his shaft into the unwilling Elf.

Aragorn amended, "You’re not entirely useless, I suppose. It is a good thing, then," the human continued his one-sided conversation, drilling his cock into the quaking laegel, "that we have found this one use for you; else, I would see no purpose in keeping you around."

Picking out from the laegel’s now tangled hair the slip of cloth he had wound around Legolas’ head, the Ranger used it again to keep the struggling Elf from moving away from him. He slammed his shaft again to the hilt inside the Prince, before pulling completely free and slamming into him again. By now, his abused body was no longer dry or opposing to this torment, for the seed from the human’s hard, leaking shaft and the blood from Legolas’ rent flesh made the Ranger’s cock slide easily inside the laegel, though it did not decrease the laegel’s agony.

Legolas had replaced the screeching insanity of his thoughts with a clear acuity that reached its zenith at the height of his degradation. He felt that he did not exist, except as a means to someone else's satisfaction. The Ranger began to breathe quickly, his climax almost near. The human gave himself no time to enjoy his conquest after his seed was spilled, but pulled his spent shaft abruptly from the Prince’s aching orifice. Aragorn wiped his shaft across one globe of the laegel’s rear, cleaning himself of the blood and seed, and marking the Wood-Elf with it. Without the support of the human's grip guiding him, the Prince slithered from the back of the chair and to the floor in a heap, unable to catch himself with his hands tied.

"I may let your father live," the Ranger whispered, putting his mouth close to the quiescent Wood-Elf's ear as he knelt close by, "but I want your father and your people gone from the valley. You will stay here with me." Not content, it seemed, to leave the anguished, raped Elf to his desolation, Aragorn reached around Legolas' waist, feeling for the Prince's sex. He seized the Elf's flaccid member and the sacs underneath, using his grip of them to pull Legolas back, so that the Prince was scrambling to his knees closer to Aragorn as his shaft was carelessly twisted.

“You have made a fool of me,” the human complained, “by accusing me in front of your father’s sentries. I had planned to let your father die, but now that you have blamed me for his condition, I certainly can’t let him die now, can I? However,” the Ranger explained with a thin snort of laughter, wrapping his arm around the laegel to hold him against the human’s chest in a mockery of an embrace, “I will not fight your father over you, Legolas.” Crushing the broken Elf closely to him until Legolas could scarcely draw enough air to remain sentient, Estel made it clear to the laegel, “You are mine, not his. When your father leaves with his people, you will remain here with me. You are my whore now.”

For a few moments, the two stayed in this awkward position, the Wood-Elf’s hands trapped behind him still, such that once released from this embrace, he was on the stone floor again.

"Go back to your room, whore," the Ranger told him, hitting him roughly with the heel of his hand once he could reach the Prince's fair head, and causing the laegel to fall back to the floor, face down. So much of his body ached that he could not tell the source of one pain from another. "You can tell your sentries that I fucked you while you squealed like a pig in the mud, like the filth you are, if you like. But if you do," Estel said, sitting back on the laegel's thighs, "your father will die. Pity he would only leave a broken, perverted, fey son to replace him."

The Ranger grabbed the Elf’s waist, and in fear that Aragorn intended to abuse him again, Legolas instinctively tried to roll to his side, for he knew he would not live through the Ranger mistreating him thusly another time. However, with the human sitting atop his legs, the laegel could only writhe.

“Not that any will believe you,” the Ranger taunted, snickering quietly again as watched the laegel’s useless struggling finally cease when his exhausted, damaged body could continue no more. “Everyone knows you to be mad with grief. Which is exactly what they will believe once this is over and you are mine alone again. They will forget your allegation in time, and seeing you choose to remain with me while your kith leave, they will soon forget your disrespect.”

The Wood-Elf could barely hear the human over his own labored breathing. The muscles of his lower belly seemed to contract and expand of their own accord; his violated body was wracked with pain. He could not seem to move from where he had fallen face down on the ground. Sharp and biting, the rope around his wrists came free suddenly, though with it came a new inundation of blood from where the coarse fibers had cut into the laegel's skin.

"Listen to me: I want your father and sentries gone no more than a day after the King awakens, and he will wake, my sweet harlot," the human promised, grinding his knee into the back of the laegel's marred thigh, which caused the Elf to thrash wildly in a feeble attempt to end this new torture to the already throbbing flesh there. “You are mine, Legolas – at least until I tire of you. Do not forget this."

Such sorrow did he feel that there was no doubt in his mind that what Aragorn said was true. The milk of the poppy still running through his blood did not aid his ability to think, either, and he swallowed each pernicious lie, the words just as poisonous as the toxin that enabled his mind to accept the veracity of this augustly horrid experience. Finally, the human rose from atop him. Untwisting the cloth wrapped around the Wood-Elf’s mouth, Estel pulled it and the gag free, though he left the cloth over Legolas’ eyes. He gave the Prince his last caveat, saying, "And do not think to escape, or to tell anyone of any of this. You have already accused me once. Do it again, let any of this come to light, and your drunkard King will meet his end with as many of your kin as I can manage."

His Estel, the human that he had watched grow from a child to a man, the one that had saved him from his grief, awoken within him the will to live after his tragedies, and gave him the hope of his unconditional love – this same Estel had poisoned his King and now was using and discarding him. All hope had left him. Had it not been for the threat the human had made to kill his father should he give any sign or credence to his having been attacked, then the Elf would have laid his head on the stone floor until Mandos took him.

It seemed an eternity that the Elf laid there, his breath coming in ever decreasing, shorter rasps. Legolas felt to be drowning in a maelstrom of cold sorrow. The weight of it battered against him, inflicting more damage to his faer than Estel had committed to his body, although truly, the Wood-Elf had never been beaten this thoroughly by anyone except his father, and even then only this badly when he had told his Ada he was leaving Mirkwood for Imladris to be with his human lover.

The scar was quiet. Perhaps it was the immense pain of his many injuries that kept it at bay or that there was nothing that his grieving flesh could say to him that he was not already feeling.

 _I must return to my rooms,_ he told himself, trying to work up the courage to move. _If they find that I am not there, then they will surely find out what has happened to me._

He took the Ranger’s warning very seriously. He recalled perfectly his instruction from Estel – he could tell no one what had happened. He was to let the King wake and find some way to force the King and the other Wood-Elves into leaving the valley without him while he remained. Once his father and the other Silvan were safe, Legolas would find some way to extricate himself from the Last Homely House and its inhabitants, who had seemingly turned against him. If he had to fling himself off the waterfalls just to be free from more suffering at his beloved Ranger’s hands, then he would gladly do it after ensuring his father’s safe return to Eryn Galen. For now, the laegel would need to endure in silence. But first, the Wood-Elf needed to return to his room, bathe and treat his wounds, and somehow give the appearance to all that this had never happened. Not yet having seen how bloody and bruised his face was, the Elf still believed that he could hide his injuries. How he would hide his grief was an easier task – all already thought him to be driven to the point of lunacy by his anguished faer.

The young, battered, and savagely raped Elf pushed himself into sitting on the floor. The position caused him to inhale sharply. The painkilling effects of the poppy extract were minimal now; not only did he feel every pang caused by the withdrawal from the powerful toxin, but the manifold brutalities of his attack were making themselves known, as well. Legolas pulled the remnants of the rope from his wrists and let them fall to the floor, and then spit the blood from his mouth. Still somewhat affected from the poppy flower’s milk, though, his mind was as sluggish as his body, and try though he might to hurry, it seemed to take the laegel forever to shift his tunic to cover his torso, then pull his trousers over his hips and tie them. Blood slicked between his thighs and the Ranger’s seed branded his rent flesh. He would have to burn these trousers, more than likely. All the Elf could think about was making it back to his room unseen.

 _I have to get back. I have to make it back,_ he told himself, repeating this to keep it in the forefront of his mind. It was too difficult to concentrate on anything else.

When he finally stood, the room spun in violent circles around him.

From the end of the room, ensconced in the deep shadows, Mithfindl watched the laegel stumble to his feet, his hand catching himself on a stone column just in time before he fell to his knees. Legolas stood there for a moment, his shoulders hunched over and his long golden hair tacky with blood upon his face. The warrior stood there mutely, wondering at how easy it had been to warp the Prince's mind. Never once had he let the Prince see his face and not once had the Wood-Elf seemed to question that Estel had been his attacker. The poppy milk the Noldo had given his victim had proven just as adept as Faelthîr had pledged in keeping the Wood-Elf pliable, and the periapt had kept Legolas' mind completely open to Mithfindl's acerbic imagination and manipulation.

Legolas seemed to gather himself – his hand ever out to catch himself, the wobbly Prince hobbled to the room’s door. Mithfindl grinned widely at the sight. Starting at the top of the Silvan’s head, where the aureate tresses were stained ruby with blood, to his face where the laegel’s lips were split and bleeding, his nose also weeping claret and the skin of his forehead above his eye scuffed and filthy from where Mithfindl had scraped it across the floor while sating his lust, to the Prince’s body, which though now covered in his clothing once more, he knew to be beyond beaten and would soon be more bruise than not, and finally the silken, pleasing flesh of the Prince’s rear, which the Noldo had so eagerly torn while imagining his shaft as a dagger upon which he could pierce the Wood-Elf – with these many injuries, it would truly be a miracle if the Prince made it back to his rooms. Were he not sure that Legolas would keep his faer from fading in the effort to save his father, the Noldo might have worried that the Prince would give in to sorrow and die. And Mithfindl was not yet done with his new toy.

Mithfindl had never taken another against his will and never in his long life had considered such an act until recently. He had worried – before he had actually begun – that he would not be able to sustain his arousal while breaking in his new pet. But then, he had never hated anyone as much as the human, had never desired the ruin of another as he did the Prince, and knowing what would come next for Legolas and Estel after his ravishing the laegel had kept his ardor indurate. In fact, just seeing the Prince now as his bloody hand slipped off the knob of the door, Mithfindl was tempted to grab the Wood-Elf, throw him back to the floor, and shove his shaft back inside the Silvan until he had spent his seed again and the Prince was begging for death. After the Prince's performance tonight, Mithfindl wanted another time, and a time after that, until the once proud Wood-Elf had broken completely under his will. For now, though he would have to keep the laegel thinking that it was Estel violating him with cruel and vindictive pleasure – it would benefit his cause so he would tolerate it. One day very soon, after they had left the valley and Legolas was completely under his control, he would repeat this performance but without hiding his true identity. He couldn’t wait to ravage the laegel as himself.

When finally the Prince had stumbled away, the Noldorin warrior glanced around the storage room, looking for evidence that might place him there. Should it somehow be found out that this was the place of Legolas’ attack, Mithfindl wanted nothing to point to him as the assailer. And it was inevitable that everyone would find out that the Prince of Mirkwood had been raped and beaten nearly to death. He had threatened Legolas not to tell anyone of the abuse he had suffered, but keeping such a secret would be impossible. Having the Prince try to keep the secret, however, would amuse Mithfindl to no end. He thought of how entertaining it would soon be when the Ranger found his lover terrified of him, having been so mistreated by Estel tonight. Indeed, it had been Mithfindl's intent all along for everyone to know soon what had befallen the frightened and abused Prince of Eryn Galen. That the Prince would be too terrified to accuse his lover now meant that Legolas would only be fueling the accusation against the Ranger. His people would rally to the defense of their helpless, pathetic Prince.

After he was sure that the Prince had time to be gone from the hall outside, Mithfindl left, as well, feeling better than he had since Elrond’s sons had waylaid him in the training fields and broken his nose.

Now it was only a matter of time before his revenge was complete.


	25. Chapter 25

_I can make it to my room. I only need to make it to my room._

He was not entirely sure how he'd managed to avoid detection in getting from the small room under the stairs to the gardened area outside his rooms. A small birch tree planted close to the house was tall enough to reach the covered veranda under his balcony, one that sat out at an angle from his, allowing both some privacy while enjoying outdoors. In order to get to his room, he climbed the tree much more slowly than he had ever scaled a tree and had to stop each time his agony threatened to dump him out onto the grass below. He could feel the tree’s anxiety for him, as it no more wanted him to fall than did he. It seemed also to know that the Wood-Elf was injured, for the slim limbs to which he clung – ones that might normally have swayed in the breeze – moved much less than those on the trees around him.

 _I am not falling from another tree,_ he told himself, thinking of how he had been pulled from the tree outside Lake-town by Sven and Cort, who had sought to geld him and then leave him to die alone in the woods. Falling out of that tree had been how he had gained the single scar on his thigh, which now was marred by other scars. He stopped for a moment amongst the leaves while he was still hidden from view, laying his head upon the rough bark of the limb. With his ear so close to the limb, the Wood-Elf could hear the tree’s lament for him, and when he finally raised his aching head, he saw that he had stained the bark with blood from the wound on his scalp that incessantly wept his life’s essence.

_I can make it to my room. Then, I will rest, but only after I have cleaned up._

For now, the scar was quiet, but only because he did not need its recriminations to be voiced. Every ill thought he had ever held for himself, each insult that anyone had ever slung at him, all doubts and misgivings he’d ever believed, and the memories of the many times he had suffered physically and emotionally from his father’s beatings and tirades, and more recently from the merchants’ abuses, were rushing through his thoughts like the water rushing through the nearby river. They were just as loud as the Bruinen, as well. Other than his pleas to himself to endure just a while longer, the wordless litany of hatred from the scar was all the laegel could hear.

_I can make it to my room. This much I can do._

Stepping out of the shadowy foliage and into the pale moonlight, unknowing that his waiting and worried lover had finally spotted him from where he hid on the terrace above the laegel’s balcony, Legolas fumbled his way over the balustrade, nearly losing his hold when his vision benighted with sickness again. Falling onto one knee, the Wood-Elf hoped none in the gardens or the houses across the river had seen him climb onto his balcony. He was supposed to be in his rooms and hiding his current state would be impossible if anyone found out that he had left. Pungent and instantly familiar, the smell of pipe-weed assaulted his nose with its acrid smoke, and Legolas tried valiantly to rise from the stone of the balcony floor, to be prepared should the source of said smoke be awaiting him in his rooms. When he made it to his feet, it was with purpose that he entered his bedroom. He had much to see accomplished.

However, the moment Legolas was within his chamber, the place where he felt most at ease in the valley that had always been a second, more friendly home to him, the weary Elf collapsed as softly as he could onto the floor, his injuries and the welling sorrow of their cause suddenly too much for him. He had thought to search the room, to be certain that Aragorn did not wait for him here now, to see that he had followed his orders, but once his aim of entering the room without detection was finished, the laegel found he had no energy to continue. He should get up to do what was necessary to hide his torment from his sentries, but still, he stayed on the floor in agony, his blood staining the carpets.

 _Thank Eru Kalin has not returned from preparing for our departure._ His sentry would soon learn that their departure would be delayed until the King woke, which Aragorn had promised would be within the next two days. He needed to move quickly to do what he could in hiding his condition from his sentry, who would likely fulminate in rage if he suspected his Prince had been harmed.

Legolas could tell the moment he heard the footsteps hit the floor of his balcony that Aragorn would soon come through the unlocked, open entryway. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He could not endure another encounter with the virulent human. The intense pain in his head, the withdrawal of the pleasurable drug he'd been plied with before, caused the scant light in the room to cause him to squint to see before he closed his eyes again against the pain. He knew just how Estel had managed to get onto the balcony to evade the sentries. The long ago prank when the human had released crickets into his room, at the behest of the twins, was one of the many fond memories that he held of the Adan. Just the momentary remembrance caused a flickering smile to cross his battered face, although the newer, awful memory that he’d just earned of the human quickly turned his brief amusement into heart-rending panic.

 _My skull feels as if it has split in two,_ he thought, opening his eyes only when he felt the human's presence enter the bedroom. _Perhaps Estel has come to ensure that it has._

He rose from the floor as quickly as he could, the sight of the Ranger enough impetus for him to remove himself from further harm if possible. There were two sentries outside his door. If the human accosted the Silvan Prince again, the sentries would not hesitate to enter at the least odd sound, and then Aragorn's hand would be forced. Still, the human had warned Legolas not to accuse him or he would kill the King. Unable to look the Ranger in the face, the Prince took a step back for every step Aragorn took towards him – because he did not look up, he could not see Estel's fear and worry, for the human could see already the raw skin at the Prince's swollen mouth, the blood congealed in his hair, and his abraded forehead. Unbound now, if the laegel had desired, he could have grabbed the nearest heavy object or tried for his weapons hanging on the far wall to try to fight off the Ranger. Even in his injured state, he stood a chance of killing Estel before the human could harm him again, but the thought never crossed the Wood-Elf’s mind. This was Estel before him – he would endure whatever Aragorn forced upon him rather than harm the human in any way.

"Have you not had enough for one night?" the laegel muttered hopelessly, stopping only a few steps from the shut door. He could hear voices beyond the thick portal, voices that seemed to be arguing. Had they not been, they might have heard him.

"I wish only to speak to you," the human told him, stopping at the foot of the bed and whispering just as softly so that the guards outside would hopefully not hear through the thick door to the laegel's bedchambers. "Please, Greenleaf. Come here."

Even with the threat of the Ranger letting Thranduil die, Legolas found that his instinct not to be hurt again overcame his desire to protect his father. He’d been given no time to process his abuse at the hands of the human and now here the Ranger was again, no doubt to continue his humiliation. Whereas before the Wood-Elf had been tied and his mind inundated unwittingly with the toxin, he was neither of these now and could not guarantee that he would be so pliant again. He had never thought the Ranger would hurt him and had paid dearly for that belief.

He chanced to look up at the human and saw the fury on the man's face, immediately thinking it was for him. "Leave me be," he warned the Ranger, holding his empty hands out as if to ward off the advancing human. This tactic worked to halt the Adan’s progress, but only because Estel noticed the bloodied skin of the laegel's forearms, where long, rough strands of rope were still embedded in the flesh that had torn from his wrists as he had fought against his binds.

Not hesitating a moment longer, Estel moved forward quickly to force his care on the laegel, pinning the Elf's outstretched arms under his own, then hugging the now struggling Prince against him. Although he could have yelled out to his sentries, and nearly did cry out from pain, Legolas tried to retain his silence. He also tried to keep from falling, from knocking the both of them over, which would have alerted those outside that something was amiss in their Prince’s rooms. He tried to evade the human by slipping out from under the Ranger’s muscled arms, but in doing so, unbalanced both of them. Together the Elf and human tumbled through the air, neither willing to let the other gain the advantage, so neither doing anything to break their fall. It was Legolas who hit the trunk at the end of his bed, his upper back connecting with the sturdy, huge wooden lid's sharp corner, causing Estel to lose his hold and fall to his knees. The Prince's body continued to roll until with the sound of bone hitting stone the Elf came to a stop, the side of his head having met against the footboard of the bed with a resounding thwack. The Elf’s mind became unreservedly dark as his weary body finally gave way to unconsciousness.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Legolas," he whispered brokenly, noticing before anything else the claret that began to seep between the laegel's blond tresses. He could only see this newly shed blood because it was a brighter crimson than the older, gelled blood that adorned the crown of the Elf’s head.

Everything happened at once for Aragorn just then. It was no sooner than he crawled forward to reach the fallen Elf that hands were roughly pulling him back away from Legolas. He knew that it had to be the Silvan sentries who had a hold of him, but the Ranger still fought against them. Not only was his lover bleeding and unconscious from his fall against the footboard, but the human had seen more clearly the new damage done to the laegel’s face and wrists. He had only wanted to grab the Wood-Elf so that he could tend to him, to pull him away from the scar’s voice, and to find out who had caused Legolas’ new suffering. Now the Prince was insentient and the Ranger’s need to be close to his lover was denied once again.

The two sets of hands upon him pulled him to the fireplace across the way, where they crudely deposited him upon the floor. Forthwith he made to stand, to get back to Legolas. Galendil had rolled Legolas onto his back, but Oiolaire and Kalin crowded around the Ranger and Aragorn could not see the laegel because of them. Kalin gave the human a peculiar look upon hearing from their fellow sentry, who knelt by the Prince, "His head is bleeding and he is out cold.”

“Let me help him. Let me by, Kalin,” he told the sentry, moving forward in full expectation that the Wood-Elf would move and allow him to do just that. Unaware that he had lost the sentry’s trust because of Legolas’ claims against him, Estel tried to walk between the two Silvan until Kalin’s hand on his chest arrested him.

The sentry shook his head, telling the human, “No, Estel. You have done enough.”

In surprise, and because the stalwart Oiolaire looked as if he would readily employ violence to see that the Ranger did not get near his Prince, the human stopped trying to squeeze between them. He held his hands up in submission, but argued, “Elladan and Elrohir are just down the hall. He needs a healer, and if you will not let me see him, then don’t stand there. Go find one. Please.”

Kalin looked from Galendil to Oiolaire, and then to his Prince, unconscious though he was, as if any of them could provide him with the proper course of action. In the dark of the room and with the laegel fully clothed, none of them had yet to see all of the bruises and marks on the laegel’s body, and so the sentries blamed the Ranger for their Prince’s ostensible injuries. It took only a moment more for Kalin to decide. "Go get Ninan, Galendil," he said, and nodding his head at Oiolaire, told him, "and you go find one of Elrond’s sons, or Elrond himself."

Neither sentry wanted to leave and stood as they were, as if afraid the Ranger would overcome Kalin to harm their Prince again. Galendil asked hesitantly, not wanting to question his superior but truly worried for the consequences of having Elrond see to Legolas when their Prince was unsure of the inhabitants of the Last Homely House, “Kalin. Legolas did not wish Elrond or his sons to tend to his King, and yet you would ask him to see to the Prince?”

“Do you know something of healing then?” Kalin asked the sentry crossly, leaving Estel where he stood and kneeling beside his charge to see for himself the damage done. “Besides,” Kalin hedged, “Legolas only said he wanted our own healers to see to King Thranduil. Would you rather we wait until we are received in Eryn Galen before Legolas is tended? Or shall I have Estel see to him?” The sentry threatened with a deadpan anger similar to that which his Prince often displayed when incensed beyond measure, “Estel will stand where he is until the others arrive or I will gut him like a fish.”

With that, the sentry asked no more questions and fled behind his counterpart from the room to their tasks. It burned the Ranger to hear the sentry question his father’s abilities or loyalty. _But at least Kalin will let Ada see to Legolas,_ the Ranger thought, fighting the urge to bypass Kalin so that he could get to Legolas, to ascertain that his lover was well. He ignored the threat made to the sentries of allowing Estel to tend Legolas, as if the human would ever intentionally harm the laegel. Now was not the time for argument. Furthermore, he took no offense to Kalin’s threat to himself, either, believing it to be for the benefit of his fellow Silvan and not actually meant. He was wrong, however.

Now that the two Wood-Elves were gone, he walked forward to see to Legolas, only to have Kalin stand quickly, his sword swiftly unsheathed and pointed towards Aragorn. “Estel,” the sentry intonated in a tone that was as sharp as the blade the sentry held in hand. “Stay back. I have no desire to spill your blood but I will if you come closer.”

So shocked was the human that he stepped back as commanded, returning to where they had dragged him next to the fireplace. _He cannot believe I am the cause of this._ Certainly, his trying to catch the laegel could be blamed for their fall, and thus Legolas’ unconsciousness, but it had been accidental.

He meant to tell the sentry this, but Kalin told him bluntly, "I begin to doubt you, Estel.”

“What you think you have seen is not the truth of what has happened,” he argued. He did not move again, which caused the sentry to replace his sword and kneel back down next to his Prince.

"What I have seen," Kalin inveighed bitterly, "is you having snuck into my Prince's room, attacked him, from the sounds of it, and upon entering I find you climbing over Legolas while he had not the sense even to know of it. How is that not an accurate depiction of what has occurred?”

Had it not been Estel who had taken care of the Prince these past months? Had he not done everything in his power to keep Legolas safe and well? Even when hearing that Thranduil came to the valley, Kalin had sought Estel out first to know his thoughts on the welfare of his Prince, even before telling Legolas. Today they had shared their worry for Legolas, as well. Kalin had not believed the Prince’s accusations about the Ranger’s involvement in his King’s condition, and yet, in a few short hours, the sentry’s good opinion of the human had soured and the Ranger could not fathom why.

“I was here for only a moment,” he swore to the sentry, daring to come another step closer to where Kalin now held his Prince’s upper torso off the ground, having laid him across his lap so that the laegel would not be lying on the hard floor. “I would not harm Legolas,” he contended, irate that he had to explain himself to the sentry.

Kalin was already shaking his head in disagreement as he pushed at the sticky, bloody mess of hair that had fallen across Legolas’ forehead. “My Prince says otherwise.”

"What did he tell you?" The Ranger would not lose Kalin as an ally. The other Wood-Elves may have rescinded their trust the moment that Legolas accused Estel, but he still hoped Kalin would not. "Why does he believe these things, my friend, to turn both him and you against myself and my kin?"

For his part, Kalin appeared unsure how to answer, which gave the human further hope that this Silvan, at least, could be made to see sense even if the others could not. Before he could continue to persuade the sentry or Kalin could answer, Kalin’s face became suddenly stern and he warned Estel, “Ninan and the others are coming. Stay where you are, Estel. I did not lie. I have no wish for your blood to be spilt. If you come close to Legolas again, Ninan will slit your throat and ask questions afterwards.”

Normally, Elves ran quietly, their footfalls barely audible as they moved. Ninan, however, could be heard as he approached, though it was not his feet, but the jangling hiss of his scabbard carelessly hitting the wall as he and Galendil made their way into Legolas’ room. Being that he had no wish to be killed by the sentries, who would no doubt react with vehement retribution if they truly believed that Estel was the cause of their Prince’s injuries, he stood as he had been, next to the fireplace, his hands within sight of the incoming Silvan. Ninan immediately took stock of the situation, first looking to the human and seeing that he was no threat, and then went to Legolas, kneeling down beside the Prince to learn what injury had incurred.

The King’s head guard put his hand on Legolas’ insentient wrist, perhaps to feel for a pulse, but then pulled it away with a grimace as the Prince’s blood stained his palm. He looked at the blood on his hand in confusion, asking, “What has happened here? Galendil said that Legolas hit his head.”

“I do not know what happened,” Kalin admitted. Kalin hefted the Prince against him so that Legolas’ entire torso lay upon his thighs, his head held dutifully in the crook of his arm. Kalin told his captain, “We heard odd noises coming from inside the Prince’s chambers and upon entering, found Estel kneeling over Legolas. He was unconscious, and remains so.”

“If he only hit his head,” Ninan began, pulling back the sleeve of the laegel’s shirt to expose the Prince’s forearm, “what marks are these?”

From behind Galendil, who had come to stand before Estel, as if in guard to keep him back from the Prince, the Ranger saw for himself the new injury to his lover. Deep, vicious abrasions circled Legolas’ wrist. Over his hands and halfway up forearms, the Prince’s skin was raw, likely because the Wood-Elf had been fighting against the rope binding him. And it was obvious to the Ranger that it had been rope to cause these abrasions. He had seen similar wounds before on the laegel from when they were attacked by the two merchants along the trade road in the woods of Mirkwood. The human realized he was on the verge of lunging forward to his lover when Galendil had his hand on the Ranger’s chest to keep him from moving. He looked to the Silvan sentry. All his wrath at the perpetrator of Legolas’ injuries must have shown on his face, for Galendil removed his hand, although he did not move to allow the human to pass him.

Shaking his head in wonder, Kalin looked confusedly to Estel and then back to Legolas’ wrists. “Earlier they were not this bad.”

“Earlier?” Huffing in disbelief, Ninan threw his hands up in the air in a very un-Elflike gesture, his patience finally worn out. “What in the name of Eru do you mean, earlier? Your Prince has been tied, Kalin, and you did not think to mention it? When was this? What happened to him?”

“My Prince,” the shamefaced but indignant Kalin supplied, looking at the Elf of whom he spoke, who he held in his arms with fearful devoutness, “has commanded me not to share that information.”

Ninan’s boiling wrath dropped to a simmer at the explanation. Kalin could not be faulted for following his Prince’s orders. “You saw them earlier but these injuries are now worse? Worse after you find the human over our unconscious Prince after hearing a scuffle inside his room?”

Kalin had not lied, but nor had he intimated anything less than what all the Silvan already believed – that Estel had assaulted their Prince. All the Prince’s sentry could do was nod, for he wouldn’t lie to Ninan. For his part, Kalin looked to the Ranger in apology, causing the human to think sarcastically, _At least if they decide to slay me where I stand, Kalin will mourn my passing._

Ninan summarily walked to where the human still stood, who had been absorbing the Wood-Elves’ conversation although his own anger was mounting as his mind conjured images of someone tying Legolas. It had not been him to attack the Prince and he was not willing to stand here listening to the Wood-Elves accusations when their time would be better spent trying to figure out the true culprit. Ninan stood directly in front of Aragorn although he continued to speak to Kalin, asking, “You let the Ranger enter the Prince’s rooms?”

“Of course not,” the younger sentry argued, sounding offended at the implication that he would knowingly put his Prince in danger. “I do not know how Estel came to be in here.”

“Leave,” Ninan charged of Estel, not as interested in aiding his Prince as he was in satisfying his self-righteous anger. Eye to eye they stood, Aragorn not looking away because he did not want to give the guard any more cause to believe in his guilt. “Go now before I remove you myself, in pieces if necessary.”

“Ninan,” a stern and commanding voice floated towards them, its owner appearing in the doorway shortly after. Still wearing the robe-like apron that the healers of the Last Homely House used while tending their wounded patients, Elrond came into the room in a billow of white linen. The twins were only a step behind him, having been found by Oiolaire and then finding their father immediately after hearing of the Prince’s injury. Aragorn had expected that if Oiolaire had found one of the twins that they would seek their father out to tend this delicate matter. Since the Wood-Elves did not trust the Noldor any longer, Elrond was the best one to deal with them, for his penchant for putting others at ease was needed in this potentially disastrous diplomatic mess.

“It is Estel who is the cause of this!” the Wood-Elf sentry declared in a near scream. Ninan, Galendil, and now Oiolaire gathered around Legolas in a tight circle, as if to keep the Noldor from reaching him, though Elrond and his sons maintained their distance by standing just inside the room.

“What has happened here?” the Elf Lord asked, echoing the unanswered question Ninan had asked only moments previous, and pushing roughly past the Silvan ring to reach Legolas. None of the sentries dared to stop Elrond as he went to their Prince. This was the Peredhel’s house, after all, and they were guards, not advisors or their Prince or King, and so would only interfere if Elrond offered the laegel harm.

Repeating the conclusions he had drawn from what he’d been told and seen, Ninan answered, “The human has attacked our Prince. He is unconscious.”

Although the Wood-Elves had allowed Elrond to push past them, they gathered around the Prince again, watchful as the Elven healer knelt down next to where Kalin held the laegel.

“I only wanted to see his injuries,” the Ranger explained to his father, ignoring all the Wood-Elves’ instant disbelief at his explication. “His wrist was bleeding, as was his head. I wanted only to help him.”

Ninan opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by Elrond, who told Kalin, “Let us get him onto the bed so that I can see this wound better.”


	26. Chapter 26

His coming to consciousness was not gradual, but abrupt, with the sound of Ninan snarling the catalyst for his waking.

“…we will see to him ourselves,” Ninan was arguing. “Kalin should not have called for you.”

“Had he not,” Elladan replied in a droll but angered voice, “you would have had our brother pierced upon your blade.”

“And your Prince would still be on the floor bleeding,” the younger twin continued, adding, “Legolas trusts our father more than anyone in this room. I would wager my life on it. Move and let him see to your Prince.”

 _Surely, I am not the cause for this,_ he hoped to himself, opening his eyes to find that while they all hovered around him, no one was looking his way. Galendil, Oiolaire, and Ninan were standing beside his bed, faced towards Elrond and the twins, who stood near to the door. He could not remember what had happened prior to this moment. The memories of the last few days were slower in coming than his consciousness. Out of an instinct instilled from years of trusting the Ranger implicitly with his rhaw and more recently of trusting the Ranger with his faer, the laegel considered, _Estel will tell me what is happening. Where is he?_

Once thinking it, the Prince promptly noticed that the Ranger stood apart from his family, in the corner near the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, with every muscle straining in fury. The bliss and ignorance of before was gone, leaving a biting ache in Legolas' skull as the toxin slowly left his body. He tried to rise, to get to Estel, to find out what had angered the human so greatly. His sore head caused his balance to waver; he pitched sideward as he tried to sit up, only then reminded of what had happened by the ache of his lower body as he put pressure on the tender area in trying to sit. And then, he remembered all of it. More than the aches caused by Estel's lust, a sharp, lancing pain shot across his chest at the reminder of the human's betrayal, causing him to double over, his hand flying up to grasp the source of anguish in the center of his chest. He could not breathe in air, felt his heart stutter in his chest, and knew that he would die if he could not quell the rampant sorrow stealing away his will to live.

He drew their attention to him not by his actions, but because every Elf in the room could sense the pang of pure and consuming grief that the Prince had just experienced. It did not take an Elf to be a healer to know when one of his or her own kind was on the verge of releasing his faer from rhaw.

_They cannot know what he has done. My father’s life depends upon it._

He willed the suffocating sorrow away, finally drawing in enough breath that his vision began to clear from the blackness encroaching upon it. His heart resumed beating, hammering in his chest as he finally subdued the desire to let it fail and end his suffering. All in the room, all of whom had been utterly still while watching what very well could have been the unexpected end of the laegel, now relaxed in seeing that the Prince had not faded before their eyes. They would have been helpless to stop it. His audience of Silvan and Noldor were no less shocked, however, and no more aware of its cause.

Only the Ranger would not have felt it, though since he was the cause, Estel likely knew just what had caused the Prince to falter. The Ranger had made it clear enough – if Legolas told anyone, accused him again, or so much as hinted that the human was behind any of this, the Ranger would make sure that the King never awoke. In the time that it took for this fleeting lapse to pass, Legolas managed to sit up disgracefully on the bed, hunched over to one side from the soreness of the many contusions to his chest. The latent ache of his thigh was beginning to pester him, as the scar began to compound his new grief with memories of his latent sorrow. He knew it was awakening again and he knew that if he did not get the sentries and Noldor to leave, he would die of shame while they stood around watching him.

 _Let them see what he has done to you. Let them know you for what you are,_ the maleficent voice interjected. _You are an animal. The human’s pet. The human’s whore._

Immediately the laegel doubled over again, feeling as if his chest were caving in upon itself. Only the thought of his father unconscious kept him from giving in to the desire to let the misery win, to find relief from torment with death. Aragorn had promised to kill the King, should the laegel perish, by never enabling Thranduil to waken. He was not certain what method the herbalist was using, but Estel had told him that he did not need access to the King to ensure his demise and that without Estel the King would surely die. Legolas knew that his human lover was a clever herbalist and did not doubt for a moment that the Ranger would know such a way to kill the King. The human did not make hollow promises.

"Greenleaf," the twins pled softly, one speaking only a half-second before the other, in desire to approach their longtime friend, to offer what solace they could for whatever caused him such overwhelming distress. They came forward, not quite getting close enough to push past the Silvan guards loosely grouped around the bed, but ready to should their friend show signs of further sorrow.

"Leave," he interrupted before any of his taken aback spectators could speak again or come near him. They stared at him, the twins and their father desiring to come to him, to comfort him, and his sentries looking terrified at the palpable anguish that all could feel from their Prince.

Only Kalin dared to come closer. The sentry moved next to the bed. He put his hand out, as if to touch his Prince, but then pulled back in uncertainty. Kalin asked him simply, “Legolas?”

Memories were surfacing to mix with remembrances of trespasses in recent months, and they roiled within his mind as his stomach churned with disgust. That these Elves stood around him when he felt soiled and disgusting, when he wished nothing more than to crawl into the Bruinen and drown in its cool waters, made the Prince feel sicker for it. He would not be able to protect his father by protecting the human’s secret if they continued to stand about him.

“Leave,” he said again, this time more forcefully, though to his audience the laegel sounded desperate. "All of you."

The Mirkwood sentries, his own people, should have been the first to obey, but because Elrond and his sons did not move, they did not leave either. Still no one talked. Whatever they had been arguing about before his waking could be resolved by his explaining to them what had happened, which is what they waited for, but Legolas would not. He could not.

“Then I will leave,” he told them. “And you can all continue to stand around gaping at each other.”

The Woodland Prince made to stand again, but he gasped softly, almost inaudibly, as the pain of his injuries intensified at his movement. Elrond was there before him, having once more merely shoved his way between the Silvan with no regard to their suspicion. He eased Legolas back into sitting on the bed before the Prince knew what had happened. He accepted the help, feeling unashamedly better at his Minyatar's mere touch. The welling sorrow brought about by the agony of his raped body abated and the scar’s baneful presence waned until there was only Estel's betrayal to torment his faer. This even the Peredhel could not alleviate.

"What ails you, ion nin?" his Minyatar asked him softly, no longer reticent or reluctant to interfere with the Silvan when one of his sons was apparently on the brink of death. After aiding Kalin to place the laegel on the bed, Elrond had not yet had the chance to see to the Prince; with the young Elf acting peculiarly, Elrond was not to be denied, especially with the Wood-Elf experiencing some sorrow for which they did not know the cause. The sentries did not try to stop Elrond, likely because they knew nothing of how to aid the laegel. They were warriors, not healers. "Are you lightheaded, Greenleaf? Lie back down and let me see to this wound on your scalp," Elrond ordered gently.

Legolas tried to push his Minyatar's hands away when they sought to coerce his enfeebled body back onto the soft mattress. Although truly only one part of his body hurt him beyond his ability to ignore it – the result of Estel's unwanted advances – his tiredness, worry, lack of sleep, the bruises and knocks to the head were taking their toll on him. He could not keep himself sitting: Elrond barely pushed but it did not take much to force Legolas onto his back once more. He did not want to lie in his bed with all these curious onlookers viewing him in his misery but he did not have the strength to fight Elrond. Even in the pitch black of the deep night, with only the sparse light from a distant lamp from the hallway and the moonlight from the open balcony doors to light the room, he could feel their eyes on him. They would soon see, they would soon know, and then his father would die.

“What has happened here?” the healer asked, before turning to his twin sons and telling them, “Fetch my needle and gut in case I have need, and water to clean this blood away.”

Taking off in a sprint, Elrohir left to fetch the needle and gut, while Elladan went to the adjoining bathing chambers to obtain water for their father to use in cleaning the laegel’s head wound.

“The human,” Ninan began answering to Elrond, intentionally not bothering to use the man’s name, “was in the Prince’s room, although guards were posted outside his door. He has done this and who knows what else, though I will find out, this I promise you.” Addressing Aragorn, Ninan asked, “How did you get in here? Galendil and Oiolaire both saw you enter your room for the night.”

Legolas tried not to look at the Ranger as he spoke. He didn’t know what the human intended to tell them, or what he’d already told them, but listened for any clue as to how he wanted Legolas to lie.

“The balcony,” the Ranger admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. “There are vines that grow along the outer walls on both sides of the house, which I climbed up and then down onto Greenleaf’s balcony.” The laegel chanced to look at the human when he explained this to Ninan, only to turn away when he saw that Estel’s gaze remained solely on him, as it had since the moment he had become aware that Legolas was awake. Unless he was mistaken, the Prince could have sworn that the human appeared genuinely worried for him. The Ranger added, “I wanted only to speak to him and to make certain that he was well.”

“Then why did you throw him against the ground?” Ninan charged, going on what he’d been told by Oiolaire on their way to the Prince’s chamber. “You are lying. Did you tie my Prince so that you could talk to him? To make certain he was well?” the Wood-Elf sentry accused sarcastically, coming a step closer to the Ranger.

Fortuitously, the twins returned at that moment, Elrohir at a run and Elladan slowly walking with a full bowl of water from the washing room. Upon noticing how close to violence the Wood-Elf sentry had become, Elladan thrust the bowl of water into his twin’s hand, spilling the liquid over the side and onto Elrohir’s tunic, as he hurried to insinuate himself between Ninan and his human brother. “Your anger is misplaced,” Elladan asserted, but then his self-righteousness dissolved and he asked, “What do you mean – tied?”

 _They have already seen,_ he worried. Surreptitiously he tried to hide his arms in case his shirt sleeves were soaked with his own blood and so that the wounds there would not be visible, but having heard the same accusation as did they all, Elrond soon had Legolas’ hand in his and was pushing the sleeve up to see for himself of what Ninan inferred.

As Elrohir sat the water, towels, and bag with the healer’s tools down on the nightstand, close to where his father sat on the bed beside Legolas, he saw the wounds upon his friend at the same time as Elrond. Elrohir sighed, saying forlornly, “Tied, indeed. Sweet Eru, Greenleaf. Who has done this?”

“The human has done it,” Ninan supplied, never having moved despite Elladan having come between him and Estel. He challenged the Ranger’s presence in the room by saying, “With all respect, we will care for our Prince ourselves, my Lord Elrond.”

The Peredhel still held Legolas’ arm in his hand though he was looking at Legolas and not the grievous wounds that he had intended to see. With his Minyatar’s incisive, verdigris eyes upon him, the laegel had a difficult time facing the Noldo he thought of as a second father. Perhaps Elrond saw how uncomfortable Legolas was in being so closely watched, for his kind face turned into a morose frown and he did not question from where the deep and bloody abrasions had come. Instead, the Imladrian healer took one of the towels, wetted it with the water from the bowl, and began to clean away the gruesome remnants of rope that were embedded in the Wood-Elf’s wrists. He also paid no mind to Ninan’s assertion that they would care for Legolas on their own.

“I did not tie him. I am not the cause of these wounds,” Aragorn argued back. When the laegel risked another glance at his lover-turned-attacker, Estel appeared as distraught as the Wood-Elf had ever seen him. Unshed tears brimmed at his eyelids, his stubbled jaw was set in rock hard anger, and he did not once waver in his denial. “I have not seen Legolas since he refused treatment for his father. I only came into his room to make certain that he was well,” the human repeated earnestly. “It was an accident that Greenleaf fell, I promise you. I would never hurt him.”

 _Estel has never been a good liar,_ the Prince thought. The idea confused him. When coming into his room from the balcony, the Ranger had seemed concerned, even surprised at the state of the Prince, and now, when questioned by an Elf before whom most of the Silvan in Eryn Galen might cower should Ninan’s anger be directed at them, still Aragorn maintained that he had only just now seen Legolas and then only to check on his welfare. It did not seem that Estel was lying, which was incongruent with what he had earlier shown the Wood-Elf.

His recollection of an hour or so ago – of Estel laughing while Legolas fought to keep from letting his faer finally fade and the screams of agony erupt from behind his raw and bruised lips – came to him while the scar provided, _Or perhaps he has been lying to you this whole time. Perhaps he has lied to get what he wanted – you writhing in pain under him._

At once, Legolas reached for his thigh with the intent of quelling the ache there and perchance quieting the voice how he might, but Elrond, ever perceptive, grabbed the Prince’s hand before it could find its target and looked to the laegel. However, Legolas could not look his Minyatar in the eye. So instead, having finished with the other wrist in cleaning it, Elrond took this hand and began the same process of pulling free the hemp rope fibers from it, now. The elder Elf said nothing. He tended to his patient with the utmost love and care, his actions soothing to Legolas, despite his desire to be free of them.

 _Please be quiet. Please leave me be,_ he pled to the scar, to Ninan, to his Minyatar, to the sentries and twins and human all arguing around him.

“And you tied his hands by accident, as well?” Ninan heatedly confronted the human. From where he laid in the bed, Legolas could see that Elladan had taken as much as he could withstand from Ninan shouting at the human over his shoulder, and before the twin could lose his temper and begin a shouting match – or worse yet, an altercation between the Noldo and Silvan – Legolas meant to put a stop to it, to make them all leave.

“Enough!” the Prince tried to shout, his voice hoarse and breaking as his ill-used throat twinged in pain. “Estel is not to blame. I am at fault.”

No one had any argument against this odd statement from the Prince, but Ninan, not wanting the Ranger around his Prince any longer, once more blamed Aragorn, whom he glowered at over Elladan’s tall and broad shoulder, “You have assaulted our Prince.”

“That is not what happened,” Legolas interrupted, saving the Ranger from more questioning.

He tried to sit up again but was held down firmly by Elrond. The Peredhel was now holding the dampened end of the towel to the once more bleeding gash at the back of Legolas’ head, aided by Elrohir, who would pour more water or fetch another clean cloth when his father held out his hand for it. Legolas needed to get rid of them before anyone started asking him of what grief ailed him or before they inspected for themselves – and they would, once seeing his new contusions. For now, Elrond’s inspection had not gone beyond his wrists, face, or head, but soon he would see the many dark marks upon his chest, belly, and back, the swollen state of his strangled throat, and once seeing these, would soon find out about the other, indecent injuries that Legolas had sustained.

“It was an accident,” he told them truthfully, adding when both Ninan and Kalin seemed ready to argue, “Estel came in from the balcony. When he approached me, he startled me. We fell.”

Ninan seemed to accept this answer easily enough – for the moment. He finally stepped back from Elladan and Estel to come back to the bedside, likely to question Legolas as to the origin of his other wounds. Kalin, however, had his own reservations and it was then that he ruined Legolas’ hopes to bypass much of the interrogation, for he told them, “I came into your rooms only a few moments before we heard you fall.” The sentry looked very much as if wishing he could have asked his Prince this in private, for he nervously glanced at Ninan and the others before querying, “Where were you? I had just managed to learn from Galendil and Oiolaire that you were supposed to be in your chambers, but you were not here when I entered. Not in the bathing room, not on the balcony. I looked for you everywhere. Not that there are many places in here to hide.”

"I went walking in the gardens, to be alone for a few moments, to clear my mind," he outright lied to his sentry, to them all. “Nothing has happened. It is as Estel has said… when I returned, he came in on the balcony, startling me. This is a misunderstanding.”

With a fatherly disappointment that Legolas had not seen since he was an Elfling, Elrond drew back from him, pausing mid-swipe at the blood in the Wood-Elf’s hair. The master healer knew that the Prince was lying, had always known when the laegel was lying, which was one reason why the Wood-Elf did not lie to his Minyatar.

 _It is good that they turn against you,_ a voice told him, sounding like Mithfindl, but coming with it the same manifesting ache that his sorrow usually brought and originating from the same place, as well. Again, his hand automatically sought the marred flesh of his thigh. He had no more than grabbed the aching muscle there than his Minyatar none too gently snatched his hand away, unintentionally grabbing the laegel around the wrist, where his accidental twisting of the raw and excruciating wounds from the rope made Legolas inhale sharply.

“Lord Elrond –” Kalin began to protest, having heard as they all did the gasp of pain that his Prince gave at the rough treatment, but a trenchant lift of Elrond’s dark eyebrow cut off Kalin’s protest.

The Peredhel apologized to Legolas, however, leaning forward to say in little more than a whisper into the laegel’s ear, “I am sorry, ion nin.” His Minyatar let loose his wrist but placed his hand instead on the Prince’s marred thigh, his strong fingers playing across the tender skin there, his light touch soothing Legolas and ending the vile sorrow that seemed at home in that part of his flesh. Still whispering into Legolas’ ear, he said quietly to the Wood-Elf alone, “I will make them leave, if you wish it, while I see to these wounds.”

He wanted to be alone and was tempted to ask for his Minyatar’s help in making the others leave. Unmistakably, his own subjects were not even willing to listen to his commands, but he knew that Elrond would succeed where he had failed in clearing the room of spectators. His King would never have been ignored had he told the sentries to quit the room: it only showed the sentries’ lack of deference that they seemed not to hear their Prince.

“I am fine,” he lied, looking only to Elrond as he shamelessly tried to convince the healer, “I require no stitches, no bandages. I need only a bath.”

The half-Elf nodded his head but then changed how he sat to be closer to the Prince’s head, for he intended to inspect the gash there to see if it needed stitches. In other words, Legolas’ plea was utterly ignored.

 _I might as well be talking to myself,_ the Wood-Elf rued. The Silvan sentries were still grouped loosely around the bed, the Ranger still at the fireplace with a protective Elladan standing in front of him in case Ninan’s ire returned, and Elrohir, to aid in his father’s task, was about to light the candelabra in the corner.

_They will see. They will know._

Again, the Elf struggled to sit, fighting ineffectually against his Minyatar's worried hold, until he began to panic again, renewing his battle to remove the hands securely holding him down. The healer, thinking the Silvan to be having some sort of paroxysmal fit, worried that Legolas may hurt himself with his struggles.

“Elrohir,” the half-Elf said and his son forwent lighting the candles and was quick to act, for he knew just what his father wanted. Elrohir grabbed Legolas’ legs by the calves so that the Prince would not kick Elrond, while his Minyatar held onto him by his shoulders in his effort to keep the laegel from further injuring himself. But Legolas forgot why he wanted to sit up and get away from the elder Elf; now he continued to struggle against them because he could not be free and being held against his will renewed his fear of being attacked again. Firm and unrelenting, Elrond did not release the younger, smaller Elf, but held him down to the mattress tightly by his shoulders, and Elrohir’s grip on his thrashing legs kept Legolas from moving much at all, try as he might.

"Lord Elrond," he heard Kalin say from somewhere closer than he had been standing a moment ago. The sentry was affronted at how his Prince was being handled, and though no one else tried to stop Elrond, for the other Wood-Elves were only standing there in fear of what ailed their Prince, Kalin was coming close to pulling Elrond away from Legolas. A singular, mordant look from the Peredhel halted Kalin's approach once again, though he remained close by, saying with umbrage as Ninan had said earlier, "We can care for him ourselves."

"I can see that," their host passionately inveighed the Silvan, "which is why none of you have yet to lift a finger to aid him." With that, Elrond leant down close to Legolas, although by now, the Prince had stopped struggling, exhaustion and pain ending his attempt. The sorrow was welling again, his chest beginning to throb at the feeling of being bound, while the notion of being at another’s mercy made the laegel wish to flee his worldly woe. However, this too ended when his Minyatar, speaking so slightly that the Prince calmed entirely just to hear what Elrond told him, whispered in his ear so softly that only the laegel could hear, "Be at peace, my wizened Greenleaf. I will let no harm come to you, ion nin. Do not be afraid."

Elrohir let go of his calves, and again, he strained to sit, but this time his Minyatar helped him, keeping his hands always on the laegel in case the Prince tried to flee his attentions again. It was more than just the cold chills of his withdrawal from the milk of the poppy that caused him to shiver – the feeling of his Minyatar's hands touching him, though fatherly, caused the Prince to quake at the reminder of Estel's vile hold of him earlier when misusing the laegel. Legolas kept his head down in humiliation. He felt like an Elfling who could not control his fear. That the cause of his anguish – the betrayer of his trust and the abuser of his body – stood by the fireplace watching him with feigned concern, made the laegel’s face flush with further disgrace.

"Will you let me help you, ion nin?" the half-Elf asked, pulling at the blanket lying across the end of the bed to bring it to the Prince's form when he saw that Legolas shivered.

"I am fine," the Prince said, accepting the protection of the blanket so that there was less of him visible from which his onlookers could draw conclusions. He could think of no lie to tell them that would explain his current state, but forced into explaining, since Elrohir had resumed his task of lighting the candelabra, the laegel said, “When I climbed down from the balcony to walk amongst the trees, I lost my balance and fell.”

Again, his Minyatar glanced at him with sad suspicion, knowing that the Prince was lying through his bloodied teeth, but the Noldo did not object to this shoddy tale. Instead, it was Ninan who insisted that his Prince was being deceitful.

"A fall did not do this," Ninan objected in growing anger. Elladan left off guarding Aragorn and stood by his twin, while Ninan and Kalin came closer to see what the candlelight had illuminated, what they had not been able to see plainly before. Instinctually, Legolas drew the blanket farther up his chest, although his clothing concealed the worst of his wounds already. Since he could not pull the blanket over his head like a scared Elfling, the Prince had to endure their scrutiny of his face. " _Someone_ has done this."

Now that the room and the Wood-Elf were no longer cast into shadows, Elrond, too, was now taking better notice of the laegel’s injuries on his normally unspoilt visage. What had before looked like mere bruises were now shown to be wounds that told a more complicated story – the corners of his mouth were rubbed raw along the sides of his face, where the cloth of the restraint Estel had used had chafed his skin into angry welts. Right where his hair ended upon his forehead was another large weal from the constant barrage of his skull into the stone of the floor – more evidence that Legolas could never have hoped to hide. Nervously, the laegel looked to Estel, to see if the Ranger had some method by which to end this inspection, to help him keep them from learning of how the human had despoilt him, but the Adan only stared back at him with unconcealed horror.

"Who has done this?" Ninan asked again with overbearing kindness, as if trying to coax the ailing Silvan into telling them. He had seen the worried glance his Prince had given the Ranger and moved to stand in front of the human to block Legolas' view. Already Ninan believed the human to be behind it and Legolas seemed only to be making his suspicions worse. He then said as much, “The human has done this, has he not?”

He saw all three of the Noldor and the Ranger exchange knowing glances, and already facilitated in his suspicion by Estel's attack on him, the laegel thought absently, _Then I was right in telling Kalin to prepare for our sudden departure. Minyatar will protect Estel. I should expect nothing less._

"I am fine," he said offhandedly. Unaware of how gruesome he actually looked, as he had not seen himself in the mirror to note the congealed blood that coated his hair, the swelling of his mouth and face from where Estel had struck him, and the now visible marks around his throat and bloodshot eyes caused by being repeatedly strangled over the course of the night, he thought he could convince them of his falsehood and argued with another one, “No one has hurt me, certainly not Estel.”

“Oh, Greenleaf,” his Minyatar sighed at the laegel and his lie, pulling back the high collar of the Prince’s tunic to better view the darkened fuchsia contusions that encircled his neck in the semblance of the hands that had wrapped around it. “Ninan is right. Someone has done this to you, and I, too, would know who it was.”

This was only getting worse. They would believe nothing he said and still they all stood around him, watching and judging him. The laegel closed his eyes in misery as he tried to think of how to explain away these wounds but also keep his father safe by keeping the Ranger’s secret. He rubbed at the new knot on his head only to feel his hand pulled away to be replaced by Elrond's fingers, which gently kneaded his aching scalp until both the pain and the Prince eased. The laegel took to rubbing his sore leg along the inside of his unmarred thigh where it had lain across the chair’s leg, though this, too, his Minyatar took over for him, using any excuse, it seemed, to touch the laegel while Legolas was still willing to be touched. Having the healer's hand so close to the location of Estel's most hateful abuse caused the Prince to shift away until he sat himself up in the middle of the bed, outside of Elrond's reach. At the strange refutation, the master healer only looked curiously at Legolas. If he continued to give the healer reason to question his behavior, Elrond would piece together what had happened – even should Legolas never admit it. Even this was too much for the Prince to risk. They stood there waiting for answers that he could not give and he could not evade their questions, much less his Minyatar’s kind but unwanted touch.

At seeing how his Prince tried to avoid Elrond’s attentions, Kalin said, "Legolas…” but quit before finishing as he was not sure how best to ask the laegel if he wished his Prince to remove him from the hands of the Noldorin healer. Kalin was no longer hiding his suspicion towards Elrond, which the healer did not even notice, so intent was he on seeing to Legolas and trying to draw him away from the scar, if that was indeed what had forced him away from his friends. Elrond had moved farther onto the bed so that he could reach out to Legolas. Finally, Kalin continued with a frown of frustration at being unable to keep the healer from his Prince, unless he was to pull the elder Elf from the bed, an act that would end up with an altercation as neither the twins nor Estel would have allowed their Ada to be handled in such a manner. Kalin merely asked his liege, "Legolas. What would you have us do?"

Initially, he did not understand what Kalin meant. His mind was just as tired as his body. He again chanced to look at Estel, unsure of how to respond, and hoped that his tormentor would give some clue as to what he wished. Legolas was doing nothing to interfere with his father's recovery and at this point, he would do anything Aragorn desired if he would let his kith and his King leave the valley without hindrance. Elrond would never knowingly allow either Legolas or Thranduil, or any of the Silvan for that matter, to be harmed in any way, but that didn’t mean that the Ranger wouldn’t try or that Elrond would take precautions to prevent it from happening, since he trusted his human son completely and would not believe Estel to be guilty.

When the Prince grasped that his sentry was trying to ask if he needed to be relieved of the unwanted attention of Elrond, Legolas faintly shook his head at Kalin. He needed no saving from his Minyatar – at least, not without causing more discord. For the moment, he would be doing best to get them all to leave and he sought to do just that by telling them, “I need only a bath, and then I should like to go sit with my father.”

Again, Ninan had seen the nervousness with which Legolas looked at Estel. To Ninan’s thinking, just because the Prince did not name the human did not mean that Aragorn was any less culpable. His Prince had endured through more than what any of them might have chosen to survive. He did not think his Prince weak for his nervous fear, but too mournful and betrayed, and likely too ashamed to admit that he had been wrong about the Ranger. Unable to control his ire any longer when his shock at seeing his Prince’s wounds had passed and now realizing that he would get no answers from Legolas, Ninan once more turned to Estel, who had remained mostly quiet this whole time. The sentry railed loudly, “You have threatened and beaten our Prince and poisoned our King. For what purpose, human?”

"Ninan!" Elladan exclaimed, angrier than his human brother was at the accusation. "Why would you think such a thing?" he asked, becoming loud himself as he criticized, "I do not know what has grabbed hold of your mind, brother Wood-Elf, but you go too far."

"Estel would no more poison the King than you would!" Elrohir added, their indignation now breaking the silence that their father wanted of them. “And our brother would sooner cut off his own hand than strike Greenleaf!”

He wanted to diffuse the argument before his sentries upset the Ranger, which might cause the human to act irrationally, and thereby endanger the King. Legolas intervened, a storm of anger clouding his fair features, "This is a misunderstanding.” Aware that by his abrupt change in mind he only fomented their reason to believe it was his grief-induced madness that undermined his actions and words, the laegel also knew that he could not risk his father’s welfare to do otherwise, and so told them, “Estel did not poison my father. I was mistaken.”

He knew better than to expect that his brethren would abandon their suspicion so easily, but he could do little to assuage it. He would plead madness, undermine his own authority – the authority he needed to use to get his father and kith out of the valley – and cause them all to doubt his sanity, but he had to deflect their suspicions from the Ranger however he could. Unable to meet any of their gazes as he lied to them, the Elf Prince used the only excuse that they might chance not to question in claiming, “I should not have accused Estel. He did not attack me. He did not poison the King. My mind is unsound.”

“Legolas,” Ninan began, but got no further, for the laegel’s new lie had upset his Minyatar even more.

Elrond had finally had his fill of the situation. Yes, his Minyatar had been able to tell when Legolas was lying since the Wood-Elf had been an Elfling, for the laegel did it poorly then as he did now. Elrond, having just heard the laegel dismissing his earlier accusation against the Ranger, could tell that Legolas lied, which meant that the Prince actually believed that Estel had not only poisoned the King but was also responsible for attacking him. Legolas knew he had made some mistake when the hand that had been gently palpating his swollen neck to look for injury suddenly clutched the front of his tunic. He may have trusted the Peredhel not to hurt him, but the sudden wrath upon his Minyatar’s face did not bode well for him.

He had asked them all to leave earlier, but in the end it was Elrond whom they obeyed, as he ordered all of them softly, “Go wait outside.” When it seemed that Ninan would argue, the irate Peredhel slammed his fist down upon the nightstand next to Legolas’ bed, rattling the bowl of water and other items there as he bellowed, “Outside!”

Loath to leave their friend, the twins made a slow departure but did not even consider disobeying their father’s order, although neither Oiolaire nor Galendil left the room until Aragorn had made his exit first. Eventually, Kalin and Ninan lingered last at the door, waiting for some sign from Legolas whether he felt safe alone in Elrond’s company.

“Go,” he told the sentries, for he did not want to anger Elrond any further.

Besides, he now only had his Minyatar to convince that he was well. He would be the hardest to persuade, however, but without the Ranger in attendance of him, Legolas thought that perhaps he could truthfully answer enough of his Minyatar’s questions to dissuade Elrond from pursuing the matter, and thus learning the extent of Legolas’ injuries.

The Elf Lord sighed loudly with relief once he and the Wood-Elf finally were alone.


	27. Chapter 27

They were all waiting outside the Prince’s rooms, although it was not clear for what they waited. Of course, Aragorn waited, as did the twins, to see what their father would say about the laegel’s condition. The sentries waited for this, also, but they likewise seemed to have taken umbrage to being removed from their Prince’s presence, as if they truly feared Elrond would hurt Legolas. Kalin was at the laegel’s door with his ear nearly pressed against it, listening for any sign that his Prince within needed him. Despite Kalin’s recent caginess in regards to the Ranger, Estel found himself commiserating with the sentry. Kalin’s single most important task was to ensure Legolas’ safety, but doing so had been beyond difficult these past several months and the sentry was ostensibly ashamed that he had seemingly failed at his duty yet again. The sentry took his oath to Legolas as the foundation of his existence. Kalin had pledged his life to Legolas – this was the primary reason that he sympathized with Kalin, as he too had devoted himself to the Elf, albeit in a different way. The human not been able to aid Legolas when the Prince had needed him either – not in the forest with the merchants, not in Thranduil’s halls from Kane, not from Thranduil, and not even now, from this unnamed assailant.

It was hard for Estel to be angry with Kalin, who only loved his Prince and wanted him to be safe. Estel felt the same way. Besides, the sentry could not be faulted for believing whatever Legolas had told him, however wrong that belief was. Kalin was nothing if not dutiful.

Where the Ranger would have preferred to be, rather than out in the hallway pacing in circles, was in the laegel's room, finding out for himself what had been done to Legolas and by whom. He at least had the promise of his Adar finding out for him. It quieted his anxiety again as he recalled how the pale Prince he'd found on the floor had begun to look more salubrious shortly after Elrond had gotten ahold of him. He had not been allowed to get close to Legolas but Estel had seen what everyone else had seen without insinuating himself into the line of fire again.

This was no grief borne illness – the laegel had been bound and gagged for a period of time. That his lover had been treated so roughly while the King was still insentient evinced that their assumptions were likely wrong about Thranduil being the cause of Greenleaf’s earlier bruises. The previous contusions made to the Wood-Elf were now much worse, as Kalin had said, and being that they were in the same places, they were likely made by the same person. Whereas before, Legolas could not remember the origin of the marks upon his person, it now seemed to Aragorn that the Prince knew exactly who had attacked him, even if he was withholding the name.

The Ranger had been exonerated in both Thranduil and Thranduilion’s condition by the Prince, but that did not keep the Wood-Elf sentries from exposing their ire for the human. They were all quiet as they waited in the hall outside Legolas’ room, but the Silvan did not bother to hide their hostility towards Estel and did not spare him from their galled glowers and glares. Only Kalin was above the display of aggression, for he stood vigil at the shut door, which took the whole of his attention.

Aragorn truly did not care if they were mad at him. Had he not come into the Elf's room without permission, Elrond's family might never have been told about the condition of the Prince. Even though Kalin would have eventually found Legolas that night, the Prince would likely have kept his sentries from fetching a healer and his wounds would have been left untreated. Legolas had lied for Aragorn, telling his sentries that his falling into the bedframe had been an accident, but truthfully, had the Ranger not tried to grab for the Wood-Elf, the laegel would not have fallen. Estel had heard and not forgotten Legolas’ words upon seeing that it was the human in his rooms: the Elf had asked Estel if he had ‘not had enough for one night.’ Without the slightest inkling as to Legolas’ meaning, the Ranger could only guess now that the Prince had thought him to be his attacker. Or at least, he hoped that it was the case because otherwise the laegel’s words portended dismal distrust over actions of which the human was unaware. Perchance now that he had been absolved by Legolas, the laegel would let him near so he could talk to his lover. Seeing the Wood-Elf in pain from both rhaw and faer caused the Adan’s own body to ache in empathy. If he could only just hold the laegel, then the human felt he could aid the Prince more than any bandages or herbs possibly could.

Stuck in the hallway for the moment, the Ranger turned his mind to who the Prince’s attacker could be. There was now no doubt in the human’s mind that whoever had caused the King’s slumber had also accosted and threatened Legolas into silence. The Prince had left his rooms – whether to walk in the woods as he had claimed or not – and been ambushed by someone. He knew that the laegel had not been accosted in his rooms prior to the human having checked them, for there had been no sign of struggle in the laegel’s bedchambers. Additionally, the sentries in the hallway outside the Prince’s door surely would have heard if Legolas had been attacked inside his own room. It would have been difficult for anyone to subdue the laegel quietly, much less tie the Elf without sustaining their own injuries. _Whoever it was, he would have had to surprise Greenleaf. Perhaps he hit him over the head and then tied him._ Although that sounded plausible, it begged the question of why the Prince would not admit who had accosted him. _What one thing could someone hold over Greenleaf to bend him to his will?_ he asked himself as he paced the hall. The Wood-Elf was not one to give in easily, especially since it had only been his own life hanging in the balance. In the woods, with Sven and Cort, the laegel had not fought back because the merchants had held Estel’s life in their hands. Legolas would never allow himself to be treated in such a way or threatened into silence if only his own life was threatened, leading the Ranger to wonder, _What threat would his attacker have made to keep Greenleaf from giving us a name?_

The answer was obvious, for it was the life of his King. Had it been Elrohir, Estel, Elladan, or Elrond under threat, the laegel would have turned to the rest of his second family for help. He had not come to them now because for reasons unclear he believed them to be complicit to the King’s condition. For the life of him, Estel could not see how the Prince had come to the conclusion that Elrond or any of his three sons could ever do anything to hurt him or his father, but if Legolas thought so, then someone had provided the impetus for this conclusion.

Elrohir touched his human brother’s arm, gaining Aragorn’s attention. He nodded his head to where Elladan was waiting just down the hall, within sight of the laegel’s door but away from the Silvan. He followed Elrohir the short way to hear what they might say. They were still within the sentries’ earshot and so would be careful of what they spoke.

Elladan began the moment that the Ranger was near enough, “I can think of only one person that would wish to harm Legolas. Even if we can find no reason or means for him to be the cause of Thranduil’s condition, he could still be the cause of Greenleaf’s, taking advantage of Legolas’ sorrow as he has tried before.”

“And he is in this house, on leave from the patrol while his father is in Lothlórien, so his time is his own,” the younger twin intimated, knowing just of whom his twin spoke – as did Estel, for that matter. “We could always go visit him. Just to assure ourselves of his innocence.”

“Without proof? Have I not caused enough discord this night?” the Ranger asked sullenly. He had to agree that of all the Elves in the valley, or any of the guests of varying races currently housed by Elrond’s kindness, there was only one that came to mind who would perpetrate such an offense against Legolas – Mithfindl. “I can still think of no rhyme or reason to his plan even if he did not poison Thranduil and only attacked Greenleaf. Why attack Legolas if he seeks favor from the King? He risks his neck, not just his likelihood of garnering the King’s favor, by attacking Legolas.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” the younger twin asked, leaning against the wall behind him. The sun would soon rise. It had been a gloomy and lengthy night for them all, and even the twins seemed drawn and tired. “He needed no reason to accost him in the forest that day, except that he felt that Legolas insulted him by refusing his archery contest. Maybe he saw that he was gaining no ground in trying to ingratiate himself to Thranduil. Maybe we are wrong about his desiring to find position in Thranduil’s court.”

Elladan was already shaking his head in disagreement. Copying his twin’s position, except that he was on the opposite side of the hall, Elladan leant his back against the stone wall to speculate, “Why would Legolas not tell us, if it were Mithfindl? Last time that crass idiot attacked Legolas, our Greenleaf was injured and grieving. He may be disheartened now because of his King’s ailment, but he is not incapacitated or desolate, not as he was then. Legolas might have bested Mithfindl in a fight,” the elder twin deliberated, unknowingly echoing his human brother’s thoughts. Elladan thought aloud to his brothers, “And yet, you say that Glorfindel told you Mithfindl spent time with Thranduil on their way here, drinking wine. Perhaps, instead of ingratiating himself, he has conspired with Thranduil. Perhaps they have made some agreement.”

Elladan’s statement had the Ranger reconsidering Thranduil’s involvement in the situation. He had previously rejected that the King and Mithfindl would ever find common ground between them, not enough for Thranduil to trust Mithfindl with his life and the life of his son, just to connive a way for removing Legolas from the valley. Although, Elladan’s supposition explained how the King could have been poisoned – Thranduil could have taken the sleeping tonic himself.

_It is still too farfetched for my liking._

He meant to tell them this, but Ninan’s sudden appearance interrupted their conversation, and having heard bits of it, the sentry asked, “The King has an agreement with whom?” His pale face was tinged with anger; the tips of the ears that pointed out from his braided hair were the same mottled color as ripening strawberries and his face was livid with unspent wrath. True confusion highlighted Ninan’s visage when he asked, “Do you blame my unconscious King for my Prince’s bruises? That would be some trick. Not even my King is that talented.”

Elrohir pulled himself away from the wall, instinctively moving closer to Estel, although Ninan had yet to offer any violence or insult to the human. In other circumstances, it might have aggravated the Ranger to be protected by his brothers in this way, but given that he felt all this to be a misunderstanding that would soon be cleared up, Estel did not want to be hurt by or hurt any of the Wood-Elves. Legolas would not forgive his sentries or his human lover if injury to any of them occurred. The twins were unarmed and in their own home – the Wood-Elf sentries would forfeit their lives if they incited any violence that caused Elladan and Elrohir harm, especially since the Noldor were not accused in the condition of their Prince or King. The human, however, was fair game, having been accused once even if he was exonerated now. Knowing all this, the twins used themselves as shields. If his Elven brothers standing before him kept an altercation from occurring, and thus a diplomatic clash, he would undergo it gladly, despite that it made him feel like a child.

Now standing between Ninan and Estel, who was the sentry’s focus despite not having been the one to insinuate that their King was conspiring, the younger twin told the sentry, “We were only conjecturing about what is occurring. Do not take offense, Ninan.”

“There is no reason for your anger,” Elladan continued, likewise moving closer to Aragorn although he also moved in front of his twin, as if to protect both his younger brothers. “We wish to aid Legolas however we can. We have no more proof of anything than you do, only possibilities, and were only thinking through them.”

“We do not need further proof of who has hurt our Prince. We caught the culprit in the act,” Ninan argued, casting his indignant gaze to Aragorn as he spoke. Not wanting to argue with the Silvan, the twins and Ranger did not respond to Ninan’s assertion. Galendil and Oiolaire had wandered down the hall to them, however, though Kalin stayed at his Prince’s door, not even glancing their way.

The Ranger stuck his hands into the pockets of his tunic, when he truly wanted to bury his clenched fists into Ninan’s face. It wasn’t the sentry’s fault that Legolas was injured, but the Silvan was determined to keep the human away from the laegel, and this in itself was doing more injury to their Prince than they could have realized. That Ninan refused even to listen to his Prince when Legolas had disavowed his blame of the Ranger would only make it harder for Estel to be let back into the laegel’s trust, since he likely wouldn’t even be able to get near Legolas. It seemed that the Wood-Elves had judged him guilty and would not be dissuaded otherwise. Frustrated, Estel jerked his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest, not looking away from Ninan’s fuming stare.

Pointing towards the pocket from which Estel had just removed his hand, Galendil asked, “What is that?”

Estel looked down to where Galendil pointed. Hanging from the cloth of his tunic were several long, thick, straight, and aureate hairs of the same shade as the Prince’s fair head. Too caught up in the puzzlement of where the hairs had come from, the twins had turned to look to their brother with the same confusion as the others. Although Mithfindl had no notion of the clumps of hair that Aragorn had pulled free from Legolas' crown earlier that day, he could not have planned a better occurrence to prove further the human’s guilt. The Ranger remembered the torn tresses instantly and saw how damning his possession of them could become. The evidence continued to pile against him as the malefactor in this odd plot.

“It is one of Legolas’ hairs,” he tried to assuage them, a statement that in itself was not a lie.

He did not offer more information in hopes that their interest would not grow. Plucking the hairs from his tunic’s cloth with the intention of removing them and letting them fall to the floor, as one might do with an errant hair found upon one’s person, the Ranger unwittingly pulled out the rest of a knotted clump of the Wood-Elf’s hair. Being that the locks had been yanked out of Legolas’ head, some of the knots that had held the crown still held the blond hairs together, and he ended up pulling free an intact lock of hair. The rest of the hidden cache of bloodied tresses was pulled to the top of his pocket, where they were clearly visible to the Elves around him. _This will not end well,_ he rued, seeing Ninan’s currently controlled ire become overwhelming outrage.

“Turn out your pockets," Ninan ordered, stepping forward as if to force the Ranger if he did not comply.

He did not want to give them any more reason to suspect him, but there was little he could do to deny his having them, and so he turned out his tunic pocket, pulling free the rest of the strands of Legolas' hair as he did. The dark of the night was finally giving way to the coming of Anor’s radiance, and in this flimsy illumination of the foreday, the shine of the Prince’s hair was as gold to those who looked upon it. The Ranger could have stolen the jeweled rings off Thranduil’s hand and not been as hated by the Silvan as he was at that moment – to the sentries, their Prince was worth more than gold or jewels, and the claret-stained locks of hair from Legolas’ head were a theft of the worst kind. He might as well have cut off the laegel’s finger and worn it on a necklace, for all the rancor they suddenly showed.

"Sweet Eru, Estel." Kalin walked away from the door in sudden interest about what the Silvan and Noldor spoke of to the human. Taking the thick strands away from Aragorn before anyone else had found the wherewithal to remove them from the human’s outstretched hand, Kalin fingered the crusted red ends of them. “There is blood on them. Why do you have Legolas’ bloody hair in your pocket?”

Suddenly wishing he had told someone before this moment of what he had found, the human decided now to come clean and keep no secrets from his lover's kin. He wanted what they wanted – the resolution of Thranduil's illness and the assurance of Legolas' safety. "They were attached to his crown, which I found under the King’s bed. Greenleaf has wounds upon his scalp, as if the crown and his hair were ripped free, and the crown thrown to the floor, I would guess.”

“Why did you not tell me of this?” Kalin asked. The sentry wrapped the flaxen tresses around his finger, making a loop of them, before sliding every single golden thread of hair into his own pocket for safekeeping – or more likely merely to keep this token of his Prince away from the human. “Why would you hide such a thing, if what you say is true?”

“Because I feared that if Thranduil had assaulted Legolas, then it might be Legolas who was at fault for the King’s strange sleep,” the weary human told them. He remembered how all the Silvan had watched the Prince’s every movement, suspecting the laegel first, before the blame had been shifted to the Ranger. He brought this to their attention. “Already at that time you blamed him for the King’s state. I wanted to give you no more evidence to support it.”

"So what then, Estel?" the irate Ninan charged, bullying close to the human under the watchful eyes of the twins, who were both as stunned as the others were, since Estel had hidden this knowledge from them, as well, but they would tolerate only so much of Ninan before they intervened on Estel’s behalf. The King’s head sentry snarled, "You think King Thranduil ripped the crown from Legolas' head and hit him...and yet you are the one we find crawling over our Prince whilst he was unconscious. Perhaps you are the one who yanked the crown from our Prince’s head."

Cutting to the quick, Kalin added, "Why do you only tell us now of these things? To save your own hide and cast the blame on Legolas, instead? And why have you kept our Prince's bloodied hair in your pocket?" the sentry repeated, his own wrath latent and more deadly, unlike Ninan’s bluster. Before the Ranger could offer an answer, the sentry held up his hand to stave off the human’s reply. Turning away from them all, Kalin began to walk back to the Prince’s door, his charge’s hair safely ensconced in his pocket, now. “It doesn’t matter. If Lord Elrond does not get the name of the culprit from Legolas, I will get it myself,” Kalin told them, not doubting in the least that his Prince would confide in him. “And then I will test the sharpness of my blade against his neck.”

Estel only hoped that if indeed the laegel would not tell Elrond, that he would tell Kalin. Someone needed to know who had assaulted Legolas so that the Prince’s attacker could be taken to task for his actions. He was eager to be the one to exact vengeance on the laegel’s behalf, but he would settle for Kalin doing it as long as it assured that Legolas would not suffer more violence. If the truth became known and the laegel’s attacker discovered, at least the human could hope to regain Legolas’ trust again.

With Kalin’s ear yet again nearly pressed to the door, the Wood-Elf sentries assembled around him, and the three brothers remained slightly farther away in silence. The gathering of Legolas’ concerned friends could only wait for Elrond or the Prince to appear.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elrond settled both hands on Legolas’ shoulders to warn the Prince sternly, his irritation no less than before, “I will not listen to your lies any longer, young one. You will tell me what has happened. Who has tied you, who has beaten you, and why is this happening?”

“I truly do not recall all of it,” the Silvan prevaricated, pulling his shoulders inwards and thus out of Elrond’s hands, his arms lying in his lap and his back bowed, as if he were trying to make himself as small a target as possible. It had been so long since his Minyatar had been angry with him that Legolas responded automatically, answering without thinking first of how he would explain after admitting, “I was assaulted. The person who has poisoned my father tied me and threatened that my father would die if I named him.”

“For what reason?” the healer asked, his annoyance calming as he saw that he would gain the answers he desperately desired. Elrond was no more used to being irate at the Wood-Elf than Legolas was accustomed to Elrond being mad at him. With a hand that was careful not to disturb the wounds upon the laegel’s wrist, his Minyatar drew the Silvan’s fingers between his own. “Why would anyone poison your father into sleep and then attack you? What does this person seek?”

Although he had been instructed not to let Elrond touch him, the periapt’s influence was less than that of his authoritative Minyatar, and so he did not think to avoid the elder Elf. Legolas did not want to try to lie to Elrond anymore, nor was he so foolish to think that Elrond would believe them, anyway. Instead, he told the truth the only way that he knew how – by refusing to answer. “I cannot tell you.”

“Why?” the Peredhel asked simply.

Legolas shifted where he sat. His head’s ache had begun to rival even the pain of his abused body. He thought of the gentle coolness of the Loudwater outside and had the sudden desire again to throw himself over the falls. At least then, none of this would be his concern any longer. Had it just been his own welfare in doubt, the laegel might have seriously considered the option. The Wood-Elf tried to think of how best to explain the matter to his Minyatar without giving away Estel as the perpetrator, but the longer he stalled the more furious Elrond grew, so finally he confessed as little as possible, “Because to tell you my attacker’s reasoning would be telling you who has done this, and I will not risk my father’s life.”

“Enough!” the Elf Lord reprimanded sharply. Taking hold of the Prince’s shoulder again, his grip tight and unforgiving but not hostile, Elrond demanded, “I have had enough of these secrets in my house. If something ill is occurring, I will know of it.”

The angry tone of his Minyatar broke the Wood-Elf’s heart further. Still, Legolas could not disclose to his Minyatar what had happened. _Perhaps I can find some way to appease him without telling him the truth,_ he thought, feeling ashamed that he would hide from this Elf, whom he loved as much as he loved his father. Despite his suspicions, Legolas knew that Elrond was not a part of the plot against his King and still held hope that his Minyatar could truly help him.

“I cannot tell you,” he said again. The scar, having quieted from Elrond’s constant affection, was renewing its flagging ambition to torment him now that Elrond only offered him anger. “Please, Minyatar. You would not believe me even should I tell you.”

Outside this very room, amongst his two Elven brothers and several Wood-Elf sentries, there stood the person who had beaten and abused him, but to tell his Minyatar this would not only invite Elrond’s wrath but also eventuate with his father’s death. There was no chance that Elrond would believe his human foster son to have poisoned Thranduil, and given that there was no doubt in Legolas’ mind that Estel had done so, the two were at an impasse from the start. He would tell his Minyatar what he could, though, without inciting the Ranger’s wrath and thus forcing the human to make good on his threat against the King.

He disclosed, “The person who poisoned my father has warned me not to make accusations against him, else he would see to it that my King will die. He has promised that my father will awaken in the next few days, after which the King and his sentries and servants will leave the valley. Once my father is safely away, he will no doubt claim my life, but if my father is safe then my task is accomplished.”

For a few minutes, the half-Elf stared at him, his penetrating gaze giving away nothing of the quick-witted cogitations going on inside his head. Unexpectedly, in an attempt to startle the answer from the laegel, Elrond asked Legolas, “Is Mithfindl behind this?”

So flabbergasted was Legolas at the mention of the warrior’s name that he did not even need to deny Mithfindl’s involvement, for Elrond could see by the Prince’s confusion and shake of the head that the laegel did not lie and Mithfindl was not involved. Still, Legolas answered, telling his Minyatar, “I have not seen Mithfindl since the day my father arrived, and then only at a distance.”

Wiping his hand across his ageless face, Elrond said his thought aloud, “No, I didn’t think he was involved. Greenleaf,” the Noldo whispered, “let me help you. Whoever has done this is not beyond my reach to hold accountable for these actions. He will not be able to harm Thranduil if you would but tell me. Leave him to me. I will find out what poison was used, aid your father, and see no further harm comes to you. Tell me who has done this. No more lies, no more evasion. Trust me, ion nin.”

He could say nothing without accusing the Ranger and so only sat there in expectation of his Minyatar’s further anger. He was not disappointed. Brusquely, Elrond seized Legolas’ upper arms, his face coming close to the laegel’s until Legolas was forced into looking at the older Elf. His Minyatar did not know how his strong hands dug into bruises already blackened and swollen, how his portentously violent demeanor reminded Legolas of how Estel had beaten him relentlessly, and how the nearness of the Imladrian’s anger made the laegel want to retreat out of a fear that he had never before felt around Elrond but had so often felt around his father. The Noldo had always treated Legolas as his son, had treated him with respect and love. He had never hit him and had never been cruel. Legolas had never felt afraid in his Minyatar’s presence as he had in his father’s presence.

Until now.

“Estel did not do this, Greenleaf.” His grip on the laegel’s arms finally loosening, the Peredhel again shook his head in confusion. Elrond kept his incisive gaze upon Legolas’ face, searching it for some sign of dishonesty, but after a few moments, the healer must have seen that the Prince was not intentionally being deceitful. “But I see that you know it to be him. I do not understand,” the Noldo said. It was not something to which the astute Lord of Imladris often admitted. “Estel would never hurt you. He would not poison your King. And yet, even without your accusing him now, you accused him earlier but renege on that accusation only to withhold the name of the guilty one. I can see in your face that your mind has not changed and that you lied when you said he was not the one who poisoned Thranduil or attacked you.”

He had not been wrong. Elrond would choose the Ranger over the Prince. He had expected nothing else, but to see it still broke the laegel’s already dwindling will to continue.

“I can say nothing that will endanger my King. Please,” he pled, hoping beyond anything that his Minyatar would not hate him for keeping this secret. He had few friends left to whom to turn right now, and even if Elrond thought him a lunatic from grief, he did not want to lose his Minyatar’s esteem or love. The Wood-Elf sat there, awaiting Elrond to rebuff him. In his pain, fear, and grief, the laegel felt it certain that enduring any more of the Noldo’s anger or rejection might end with his faer finally fleeing his aching body.

Shaking his head with a bewildered sigh, Elrond’s kindness returned to his face and he ordered, “Then off with your tunic, young one. Later we will speak of this again. For now, though, if you will not let me help you stop whoever has treated you so poorly, then for now I will help you how I can.”

The worst of the damage done to him was not under his shirt, so with Elrond’s help he removed his tunic and then his ruined undershirt with utmost care. More important to Legolas was that he remain in his Minyatar’s good graces. He knew that he was likely bruised from head to toe but having not seen the damage to his person, did not know how badly just yet. The discomfort from the kicks and blows to his person was the least of his pains at the moment. Taking off his shirt for Elrond turned out to be yet another terrible mistake on his part.

His Minyatar was not pleased. The longer he looked, the more uncomfortable Legolas became. “Naer ion nin,” his Minyatar whispered in a voice so tremulous with sadness that it was no louder or steady than the sough of the night breeze through the leaves outside. “I am sorry,” he told Legolas, apologizing for something for which the laegel did not understand, repeating, “I am sorry.” 

He looked down upon himself to see what Elrond saw and was as disturbed as the healer was. Not even when he had come to Imladris a few months ago, when his father had tried to grind him into the ground and possibly kill him, had the laegel been so battered. For the most part, the bruises were only that and not indicative of deeper injury. Though painful and likely to grow evermore colorful as time passed, he did not feel as if any bones were broken or permanent damage done, but this did not mean that they did not paint upon his body an appalling account of the suffering someone had caused him, someone that he would not name. From what he could see of his chest, as he could not see his back, there were at least a score of heel-shaped red marks that were slowly turning dark blue and black, not to mention a huge, elongated contusion across his stomach where Estel had forced the Prince to lie across the broken chair. From hip to hip, this bruise was the worst currently visible, for his and the Ranger’s weight had compressed the Elf’s body upon this area.

 _I should not have shown him,_ he thought, reaching for his shirt instinctively, thinking of the one across his stomach, _He may guess what has caused this._ He didn’t manage to cover his belly, for in that moment Elrond took hold of his arms to lift them. As he watched the Elf Lord’s face grow ever gloomier, Elrond gently moved Legolas’ limbs this way and that to see his ribs and then moved himself to see better the bruises on the Prince’s back. The laegel realized that he had sported a very similar bruise on his belly after accepting Kane’s lust in the halls of his father. Indeed, the merchant had used a chair in a similar manner, bending the Prince over it to spread his body for the merchant’s eager attentions. Legolas knew that Estel was aware of Kane having done this, and could only surmise, _Estel has learnt much from my past misery as to how to inflict it on me again, else hearing the details of my suffering only gave him lustful ideas for reenactment of them._

Having seen his fill, Elrond could take it no more. He pulled the reluctant Wood-Elf towards him, using much more caution than he had shown while angry with Legolas just a short time ago. Not accepting the Prince’s feeble resistance, Elrond gathered the Silvan in his fatherly embrace. He held himself stiff for a moment, for the sudden immediacy of the elder Elf surprised him, but soon enough the unrelenting gentleness that his Minyatar offered evaporated his misgivings and the Prince found himself relaxing into the much needed comfort from his elder. Wearily he laid his down on Elrond’s shoulder and closed his eyes. His Minyatar may not believe him concerning Estel’s actions, but he had not forsaken him.

“Come with me to the apothecary,” the Imladrian Lord implored as he finally released Legolas, the matter settled in his mind that he would need to treat these new marks on the Prince. Undecided as to whether he should go with Elrond or not, the laegel sat quietly for a moment, trying to gauge whether he could stand, much less walk. Taking the younger Elf’s silence as defiance, Elrond’s unwillingness to let one of his fostered sons suffer when there was something he could do to alleviate it caused the master healer to entreat, “Greenleaf. Please. Let me do what I can to ease your pain.”

In his effort to keep his Minyatar from asking any more questions, or from guessing that there was more damage to be found, he decided to comply. _Let him smear me with unguent and think me mad… so long as I can return here without having to explain to anyone what has happened._ But he did not want to be touched so intimately, not even by his Minyatar. He could not fathom sitting still while Elrond poked and prodded each bruise, and then rubbed his ointments upon him. It would only give his Minyatar the time for more questions, and the laegel found he was too exhausted to continue to elude them. Besides, Elrond would likely end up asking him to remove his trousers to check the state of his thigh, in which case his careful elusion would be for naught.

“No, Minyatar,” he pled, not wanting to be coddled anymore. “A bath is all that I need to cure me, and I need to go sit with my father.”

He attempted to stand to show that he was not as injured as his Minyatar believed him to be, but in doing so, evinced precisely how wounded he truly was when upon trying he staggered from the lancing pain of his lower body. He had been properly ravaged by the human. Not since the storeroom of Kane’s shop in Lake-town, where the merchant had raped the laegel with the tapered neck of an empty wine bottle, had he felt such agony in so tender a place. Luckily, though he had bled during the abuse itself, his innermost flesh was not so rent that it had continued to bleed, and there was no telltale evidence on his leather leggings that might give away his secretive suffering.

“Are you injured elsewhere?” the perceptive healer asked, his brows drawing together tightly as he began to understand, much to Legolas’ chagrin, that there was something seriously wrong with the laegel that he was not admitting. “Does your leg bother you? Your grieving faer – the scar – it has spoken to you this past day, has it not?”

No matter Mithfindl's plans, the Prince replied automatically, millennia of obeying his Minyatar making his acquiescence come naturally, though the niggling idea returned that he was not supposed to listen to this kind Elf's words or accept his help. However, Legolas' need for such comfort when he feared he was alone in this mad struggle to keep his father and kith safe overwhelmed his subjugated thinking. At least he could answer this question without fear of the Ranger’s reprisal. So finally, the Prince dropped his head, unable to look at Elrond any longer as he concurred with the healer’s suspicion, “Yes, Minyatar.”

“Oh, Greenleaf. And after these months of not having to bear witness to it, it comes back to torment you,” the healer lamented on the Prince’s behalf. No longer waiting for the Prince’s permission, Elrond reached for the ties to the laegel’s trousers, although he did so slowly while saying, “Hush, young one. I will see for myself what damage is done to your leg. You have pestered it, have you not? To make it ache so that you can barely walk? Or are there bruises here, as well?”

Legolas had the sudden image of being trapped, his Minyatar advancing on him as if cornering a frightened rabbit. He did not wish to be unclothed, not even in front of his Minyatar, and it was not his scarred thigh that concerned him, but the insidious bruises and abrasions to other parts of his body that would tell the tale of what had truly happened to Legolas. With shaking hands, the laegel pushed at Elrond with violent force, but instead of knocking the sturdy healer back and away from him, Elrond stood firm while Legolas fell back instead, his injuries causing him to waver and then stumble until his Minyatar’s hands steadied him. Although he welcomed the help from falling, as soon as he found his balance, the laegel took the opportunity to move away.

“I will see to it that my people are gone the moment that my father awakens,” he promised, saying the first thing that came to mind that might mollify his Minyatar. “I did not mean to bring this artifice and evil to your house. I will cause you no more aggravation, my Lord. I promise you.”

“Legolas,” Elrond reprimanded in surprise at this sudden change in the Wood-Elf. He tried to catch hold of the younger Elf’s arm before he could flee entirely.

Terror made the laegel faster than his Minyatar, despite his injuries. With explosive pain in his aching head and the myriad bruises that constricted his sore muscles, Legolas still managed to outmaneuver Elrond by slipping around the end of the bed and to the couch. Behind him, through the open doors of the balcony, the sun rose over the valley. Legolas could feel its warmth upon his chilled flesh as he backed slowly towards the doorway. He would jump down and be in the woods, if he had to be, to avoid Elrond ever finding out that he had been raped – and by Estel, no less. The King’s sentries would keep careful watch over his father until he could find his way back to them. He was not taking any chances with his King’s life, not even for the much desired comfort he could see offered in his Minyatar’s benevolent face. Legolas almost jumped anyway, despite that Elrond had ceased his advance upon him and now only stood watching the Prince with exhausted, confused eyes.

The young laegel could think of nothing else to do to halt this inquisition other than to shout out, “Kalin!”

As if he had been waiting for his Prince’s call with his hand on the knob, the sentry had the door open and was inside the room before Elrond could protest. Not bothering to wait for invitation, Kalin strode directly to his Prince and stood purposely between Legolas and the Noldo. “My Prince?” his sentry asked.

Now that Kalin was within the room, Legolas could find nothing to say to the sentry that would justify his having called him. He had merely hoped that Kalin’s presence would allow him the time to escape Elrond’s attentions, and now that it had, Legolas stood quietly. Kalin, however, did not even notice that the Prince had given him no orders and seemingly called him in for no discernible reason. Instead, the sentry was staring in unrestrained dismay at Legolas’ bared chest. Having Elrond inspect him was bad enough, having his sentry do it was even worse, for he knew that Kalin would now never leave him alone until he knew who had caused such injury. He could call in Kalin to deflect his Minyatar, but there would be no deflecting his sentry.

To gain their attention, Elrond grumbled quietly in his throat, dropped his head, clasped his hands at his waist, and with more formality than he had ever shown Legolas, told him, “Prince, if you require anything of my household, you have merely to ask and it will be granted. And if you have need of my help, you know where to find me. I will always be at your disposal.”

The unusually grave Peredhel – or at least, unusually so in Legolas’ presence – turned on heel to leave, grabbing his satchel of healing supplies as he went, although he stopped at the door to implore the sentry, telling him, “Kalin, if you love your Prince, do not long let him out of arm’s reach.”

With that, Elrond left the room, leaving the laegel standing on trembling legs and now without a single person from the valley who he felt he could trust.


	28. Chapter 28

Aragorn had been watching the door to Legolas’ room, and thus Kalin, when the sentry had rushed inside the room. Although the other Wood-Elves perked up at their fellow Silvan’s action, none of them ran in behind Kalin, leading Estel to conclude that Legolas or Elrond had called for Kalin specifically, and not for help. Only moments thereafter, the master healer slipped from the doorway, shutting it smoothly behind him such that no one could catch a glimpse of what went on within the laegel’s chambers. Three Silvan, a set of twins, and a human Ranger were soon crowded around Elrond, their argument of before forgotten for now as they stood in the comity of common purpose to find out what ailed the Prince. Elrond did not waste time in answering their questioning looks but set about putting them to task.

The Lord of Imladris had no qualms about ordering Galendil, telling him, “Go find a servant, or best yet, the King’s servant – Faidnil, I believe his name is. Tell him to bring water to the Prince’s room for a bath.” Galendil took off at once to do as he was bid, not once hesitating to follow Elrond’s orders, for they were given with such expectant presumption of being followed that it was hard not to do as he asked. Elrond’s demands were not often ignored.

To Oiolaire the Peredhel said, “Do not leave this door for any reason. If something or someone tries to call you away, take note of what or who it is. If anyone not of my family or your people comes through this hall, take note of it, as well. I will make certain that the servants know that no one is allowed access through this hall for the time being. There is some scheme occurring and I would know of anyone who might be involved in Greenleaf’s torment. Most importantly, let no one, not even your own people, inside your Prince’s room without Kalin’s permission.”

 _Kalin’s permission,_ the Ranger noticed his father say. He had not said, ‘Legolas’ permission,’ but his sentry’s, as if the Prince were not able to decide who was friend from foe.

And looking lastly to Ninan, Elrond told him, “Leave Legolas to Kalin’s care. He wishes no more curious onlookers and his healing faer does not need to be witness to your anger or indignation. Kalin will not soon part from his Prince, and in Kalin’s hands he will be safe.”

Oiolaire and Ninan were both nodding, willing to accept Elrond’s instruction, for even they could tell that Elrond was in no mood for disagreement or diplomacy and that the advice he gave was sound. Elrond, having told them all that he intended to, began off down the hall towards the stairs until Ninan called out, “Lord Elrond, wait.”

"I am obtaining the medicines that your Prince needs," the healer challenged, coming to stand close to Ninan as his aggravation got the better of him. The normally staid Elrond had reached the limit of his patience, especially when faced with matters as close to his heart as the welfare of a King, and a human and Wood-Elf whom he thought of as sons. “And the sooner he receives medicines, the sooner he will not be in pain.”

Whereas most Elves would have been dwarfed by Elrond in any normal situation – not by his size but by his power and bearing – Ninan was self-righteously angered. He, too, had had his fill of the secrecy, lies, and injury to his sovereigns and did not hesitate to confront the Noldorin Lord.

"Estel had our Prince’s bloodied hair in his pocket, Lord Elrond," the sentry told his better, meeting the master of the house with expectation that Elrond would turn upon his human son once hearing the supposedly condemning evidence they had procured. "He says that they came from Legolas’ crown being ripped from his head.”

Having not told his father, either, of the crown or hairs, Elrond might have been clueless as to what they spoke of, except that he had seen the wounds upon Legolas’ scalp the previous evening even if he had not known how the Prince had come by them. "I have no doubt that Estel is right," he told Ninan. "The wounds I saw on his scalp are just where the crown would have been fastened," Elrond told the Silvan without elaborating or acknowledging Estel’s possession of the locks of hair.

"Is it not clear to you that he has poisoned our King and beaten our Prince?" the sentry said with bitterness when he saw that Elrond was not impressed with these new findings, though it was towards Estel that he threw his hostility, flinging his words as if he wished they were knives when he queried the human, "Will you not admit it?" To Elrond the sentry subdued his anger and pled, "What more evidence do you require?"

"Estel did not poison your King or attack your Prince. I am as interested as you to find out who is responsible." The Elven Lord of Imladris was no less angered than Ninan, and Elrond was at his patience’s end. “Legolas himself told you that he was wrong to believe that Estel poisoned your King. If you do not believe Estel then believe your Prince.”

Drawing himself to his full height, Ninan then merely bowed to Elrond's simple statement, for it was not his place to argue with the Lord of the Last Homely House. "We will see to our Prince," the sentry stated, his meaning clear: since the healer did not believe in the Ranger's guilt, he would not get access to Legolas, not if Ninan had his say.

Elrond was not in the mood for debate, and he nodded curtly, telling them, "I will send by way of a servant the bandaging for your Prince’s arms. If you have need of anything, you have only to ask for it."

The sentries, given that they now all believed beyond a doubt that Estel had both poisoned their King and harmed their Prince, were not going to accept any herbs from Elrond that the healer would otherwise have sent with the bandaging, which meant that the Ranger’s hopes were now dashed that at least his Silvan lover’s bruises would be treated.

Ninan turned back to the Ranger, asking, "Will I need to station sentries in the trees outside Legolas' balcony, human?"

"There will be no need," he told them, bowing his head slightly in conciliation. The sentries still stood between him and his lover and the Ranger still wanted the time alone to speak with the laegel. He had no desire to anger them further, however. Next time, Kalin would make good on the promise to gut him like a fish, the human was certain. "I will not impose upon the Prince again."

With that, the tense council broke, with the two remaining Silvan turning upon themselves to converse. The twins and Ranger followed their father, who was walking quickly away – and to the apothecary, by the route he took. Again, the family meant to confer, to hear from their father what news he could tell them, but Elrond was currently lost in his own thoughts while they went up the stairs and to the upper floor. He stopped at the carved door to the apothecary, his hand upon its ornate knob, and did not turn to look at his progeny as he spoke.

“I do not understand what is happening,” he told them quietly, opening the portal with a violent, aggravated shove that belied his calm voice and demeanor. “Nothing of this nature has ever happened in my house. Farther out in the valley, perhaps, but not in my own home.”

He stood at the doorway, watching as Elladan and Elrohir went to comfort their father, though for what, he had yet to tell them. Elrond sat down on a bench, his twin sons sitting beside him in anticipation of the news their Ada could now share, after having spoken to Legolas.

 _Let Greenleaf have told him who has done this to him,_ the Ranger begged. He was eager to ask this question, but his Ada would tell them how he saw fit, so the Adan closed the door and waited.

When Elrond had made himself comfortable, he listed the laegel’s injuries, starting with that which they already knew of in saying, “His wrists were bound by rope. Hemp, I believe, like the rope used to tie the bales of hay in the stables. He was also gagged. Part of his undershirt had been torn off and was not on him. I think his attacker used his own undershirt to gag him. From the way that the sides of his mouth are split and raw, I should think that whoever has done this to him pulled him by this gag, or else Legolas fought hard against it.”

Although Estel’s agitation was growing at the cruelty perpetrated against the Prince, Elrond continued on without emotion, speaking as if he were listing the items he needed from the market, “He has been strangled almost to the point of death, more than once – if his attacker had choked him any harder or even once more, his throat might be ruined beyond repair or swollen beyond the ability for him to breathe in air. His chest and back are covered in bruises. Most of them look much like the boot prints his father left upon him, when he came to us a few months ago, but more abundant. I have never seen an Elf so bruised by another’s hand – or foot, as the case may be. Legolas looks as if he has been trampled by horses.”

The Peredhel was finally losing his composure at the recitation of Legolas’ injuries. Feeling their father’s sorrow, Elladan and Elrohir each found a way to touch their Ada, one with a hand upon his arm and another placing his hand on Elrond’s back in silent comfort. “He was beaten ruthlessly and with no regard or purpose, from what I could see.” The Elven Lord let loose a ragged breath and shook his head, tears welling in his eyes as he told them, “Our Greenleaf has been tortured.”

While he had seen the bruises to the laegel’s face and head, and the awful chafing around his wrists, Estel would not have guessed that Legolas’ injuries were so numerous or severe. When he had come in from the balcony to see the Elf, Legolas had been collapsed on the floor, and while at the time Aragorn had thought it to be grief that had caused his lover to fall to the ground, it seemed to him now that Legolas had likely been so injured that just finding his way to his rooms had taken enormous fortitude. Tears brimmed at his own eyes to fall down his stubbled cheeks.

_Someone will pay dearly for this, I promise you, Legolas._

Once he had collected himself and his thoughts, their Ada went on to say, “Greenleaf would not allow me to tend him properly, so I can draw no further conclusions about who or what or even why this was done, but he has admitted that someone assaulted him, though he refuses to name his attacker, out of fear for his King,” Elrond explained, folding his hands in the soft white cloth bunched around his waist. The fabric was stained with blood, though whether it was Legolas’ or some other poor soul’s wounds that had caused this mar on the cloth, Aragorn did not know and did not want to ask. Being that the Ranger was no Elf, Aragorn had not felt the intense distress from Legolas when the Prince had almost given in to his grief and faded before their eyes. It was with this in mind that Elrond told the human, “Twice while we stood there, Estel, Legolas’ sorrow almost claimed him. He strives not to give in to despair only to ensure his father’s safety. I am not certain if it is the fear over his father, or the remembrances caused from his being bound, but his grief comes too near the surface for him to face alone. And since we cannot ease his sorrow, I fear we could lose our Greenleaf, especially if we do not halt these mysterious events soon.”

He had not felt it, no, but the human had known that the Elves around him were sensing Legolas’ grief. He had not known, however, how close they had come to watching the Prince’s demise. _Twice he almost died right before me,_ Estel thought, leaning against the door behind him for support, as the idea of his lover dying seemed to knock all the wind from him.

Elladan had now wrapped his arm around his father’s waist, while Elrohir added his own arm to his twin’s arm such that the three appeared as if they were huddling for warmth, though it was the need for affection that drew them together. Estel knew that the twins could feel their father’s heartache. He could see it in their alike faces that each was remembering a different patient who had endured sorrow and torment of a comparable sort, who had sailed to Valinor to be free of the malevolence of Middle Earth. Celebrian had survived, at least, which not many Elves did when their bodies were broken and the light extinguished from their faers. Legolas had persevered thus far but the human wondered, _How much more can Greenleaf endure before he gives in to death just to cease his suffering? It seems he is at the brink even at this moment._ The thought of this made the human want to jump up and run to the Prince’s room, to risk Kalin’s wrath, if he had to, so that he could reach Legolas.

Accepting Elrohir’s hand when it sought his out, Elrond continued as if in answer to the Ranger’s thoughts, “The scar has awoken once more.”

The human’s legs seemed to give way under him. He fell back against the closed door behind him and slid down it, folding his arms over his head. _I must speak to him,_ the Ranger lamented. Desolation and desperation fueled the human’s thinking. _I must make him trust me again, whatever it takes. He cannot endure the scar alone. His sentries will not be able to keep him afloat in his sorrow. He will surely drown in it if I cannot find a way to him. I will cut my way through his sentries if I must. I will not let him die._ They had all assumed that the scar was controlling the laegel but to have those suspicions confirmed was devastating. _I thought he was well. Let this not be my fault,_ the Ranger prayed, thinking, _let this not be because we found pleasure together again._

“Estel,” his father called to him. Aragorn realized that he still had his arms over his head, shutting out his family though they had been trying to speak to him. When he finally raised his face to meet their worried own, the Ranger unashamedly wiped the tears from his eyes that were clouding his vision. Elrond had more bad news – Estel could tell by the look on his face that he would tell the Ranger worse than what he already said. The human could imagine little worse than knowing that his lover had been beaten and that the hateful scar’s voice held sway over Legolas once more.

“He said to me that his attacker told him Thranduil will awaken in the next few days, after which Legolas is to have his father and his people leave for the Greenwood, while Legolas remains. He told me that he expects he will die then, but if he meant from his attacker’s hands or from grief, I do not know. I asked him outright if Mithfindl was the one responsible for his bruises, and Legolas denied it. He did not lie, or did not know that he lied.” Elrond looked away from him and into the fireplace that burned brilliantly. Outside, the morning sun was shining, but here in the apothecary, where the herbs and tinctures needed darkness to keep their viability, there was no sunshine to brighten the room. When he looked back to Estel, the human could see that Elrond did not wish to tell his human son what he was about to say.

It did not stop him, though, and he told Aragorn, “Although he told his sentries that you were not responsible, Legolas still believes that you poisoned his father, and he now believes that you are the one who attacked him, although he refused to accuse you outright in fear that you would kill the King.” Shaking his head, their father amended, “No, he does not _believe_ it to be so. Legolas _knows_ it to be so. He was not lying, but I do not understand on what he bases this knowledge.”

He did not need to plead his case with his family. They knew he had done none of those things, but his confusion and exasperation made him climb from the floor to argue anyway, “I would never hurt Greenleaf. Did he not see who it was who beat him? There is no other being in the valley that could pass as me. And if he did not see who attacked him, why would he think it to be me? Has his grief driven him to madness?”

His family had no answers for him except sympathetic silence. After a few minutes, Elrond rose from where he sat with the twins, who had remained quiet and morose through this whole conversation, and came to the human he had fostered as a son since Estel was but a toddler. Standing before the Ranger, his father told him, “I promise you that I will get to the heart of this matter, Estel. Before it is too late for Legolas.”

The Ranger nodded, not once doubting that his father would try his best to keep that promise, but holding no optimism that Elrond could see it completed. Not since leaving the laegel in Mirkwood, grieving and at the mercy of his father, had the human felt so hopeless. There was nothing that he could do to help his lover, not with the sentries barring him access from Legolas and with the Prince holding steadfast to his strange belief that Estel was the cause of his current woe.

“I need to speak to Glorfindel and Erestor,” their father told them abruptly, his misery falling away as purpose overtook him. Elrond had just made a promise to Aragorn and he would do whatever it took to see it come true – for Legolas’ sake as well as the Ranger’s sake.

“Did not Glorfindel return with the warriors to the borders?” the human asked, as the commander had told him that was his intention. It would be good to have both Glorfindel’s acumen and Erestor’s wisdom in helping to cipher this puzzle. _I should like to talk to Glorfindel myself, if he is still here._

“No, I asked Glorfindel to stay in the valley, in case he was needed.” He rubbed his hairless chin in abstracted contemplation, his inability to control this situation showing in the slump of his usually straight and proud shoulders. “As it turns out, he and Erestor are very much needed. There is something here that I am missing, and I think they will be of help. Our worry for Greenleaf may be blinding us to some detail that would help us see the matter more clearly. In the meanwhile,” Elrond said pointedly, placing his hand upon the human’s chest and his voice becoming grim as he ordered in the same way that he had ordered the Mirkwood sentries earlier – that is, brokering no room for leeway – “you will not try to see our Greenleaf again without his permission. Even if he gives it, keep Kalin nearby for your own safety and as an alibi of sorts. The Silvan are apt to slit your throat and risk the punishment just to keep Legolas and Thranduil safe. They are on the threshold of violence and need no shove. Give them no cause, ion nin. Already one of my son’s lives hangs by a thread. Do not add your own.”

Elladan and Elrohir stood to come to their human brother, one on either side. Elrohir promised, “He will behave, even if we have to watch over him.”

“See that you do,” Elrond told them as he left to find his advisors for their aid in pulling apart an entanglement of intrigue that he could not seem to unravel on his own.

Estel sighed and moved to the bench the Elves had just vacated. Sitting heavily, the Ranger rubbed his whiskered chin in unknowing imitation of his Elven father’s action just a few moments ago. _Kalin will never let me near Greenleaf, perhaps not even if Legolas orders him away. But I cannot act so stupidly again in trying to force audience with Legolas. This time, Kalin will give no warning before he pulls his blade, and I would rather not die until I have found and thrashed the one responsible for this travesty._ It certainly upset the Ranger to know that his lover had been tied and beaten, but a fiery rage was building inside him, which was fed by the inescapable imagery of Legolas being tormented by someone whom the Elf thought to be Estel. The Prince believed the Adan to have betrayed him, which ignited a desire for bloodshed in the Ranger. _Someone has coerced Legolas into thinking I am the one responsible. He would not come to this conclusion on his own. And whoever has done this has done it for revenge, either against Legolas or me._ Once more, the human’s thoughts returned to Mithfindl, and he considered, _Perhaps we have been wrong this whole time. Perhaps Mithfindl never sought position in Thranduil’s court, or if he did, perhaps when it didn’t come to fruition or once Thranduil was insentient, Mithfindl decided he’d rather have retaliation than power and prestige in the Greenwood. Or if he thought Thranduil would never waken, he may have abandoned his plans for ingratiation. Even if he is not responsible for Thranduil’s illness, then perhaps he is taking advantage of Legolas because of it._ Folding his arms across his chest, the human stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossed them at the ankle, and then stared disinterestedly at his boots. He forgot about Elladan and Elrohir even being in the room, so intent was his deliberation. _But I still can think of no way for Mithfindl to trick Legolas into thinking that I am the one who has hurt him. Even if he’d been drunk, as he said he was the night that Thranduil was poisoned, or even if he’d been poisoned with something, once the toxin wore off, his muddled mind would clear, and he would see the truth of what had happened. Of the night of the feast, he remembers nothing; this time, he remembers it to be me? It cannot be a mere toxin._

Moreover, the Ranger could not think of an endgame to such a plot. It was as he had told his twin brothers earlier – if Mithfindl had been the one to do it, he took great chance in attacking Legolas. If he were going to imperil his neck, it would not be for a mere beating. It seemed a huge risk for a short-lived moment of pleasure. _Except that Ada told us that Legolas claims that his father will awaken, and once awake, he is to make his kith and kin leave the valley, while he stays behind. How would Mithfindl benefit by Greenleaf remaining in the valley? Perhaps to use him against me? Or unless he intends to kill Legolas, to finish his revenge without Legolas having the protection of his sentries._ The thought made the human shiver in revulsion. In the woods those months ago, when Mithfindl had attacked Legolas, the Noldo had been intent on having his way with the Wood-Elf as a form of control and castigation. The Prince, under the sway of the scar at the time, had been acquiescent if not eager, and had almost been victim to Mithfindl’s detestable lust. If the Noldorin warrior had the laegel’s death planned, all as revenge for his being beaten by a human and humiliated by the Prince, then Aragorn would do all that he could to see that Mithfindl’s plan of revenge failed.

 _I cannot even say that it is Mithfindl,_ he rued, sighing at the conundrum of being so sure of who was responsible while being accused of the action himself. _Especially since Legolas says that it is not Mithfindl._

As these and many more thoughts churned in the human’s mind, he closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it harshly in aggravation. It wasn’t until he finally opened his eyes again that he recalled that his brothers were still in the apothecary with him. The twins had stood quietly while watching Aragorn as he pondered. It seemed that they planned to keep their word and follow him back to his rooms, if need be, just to ensure that they did not lose the human to the Wood-Elves’ violence. However, when he finally looked up to complain to his Elven siblings that he would behave himself, in hopes that they would not hound him, the two identical brethren were nodding at each other, having had one of their wordless conversations that irked most everyone around them, as no one could ever tell of what the two were speaking as their mouths never so much as twitched.

As if they had followed his line of thinking, without preamble Elrohir told his brothers, “I am not as certain as our father that Mithfindl is not at fault. If Legolas does not lie when he says Estel is guilty, then perhaps he does not  lie when he says that Mithfindl is not – Legolas is just not aware that what he thinks he knows is plainly wrong, and so does not know that he lies.”

The eldest of the three brothers was smiling, which to Aragorn seemed odd given the circumstances, but Elladan’s malicious grin was spitefully born. He agreed, saying as he pulled Estel by the hand off the bench and to his feet, “If we cannot aid Greenleaf in person, then we shall aid him how we can. If Mithfindl is the only culprit we can suspect, then let us go find him and see what his whereabouts have been for the last few hours.”


	29. Chapter 29

No one else had come into the Prince’s rooms other than Kalin. Ninan had returned to his King now that his Prince’s immediate safety was no longer in question. Since none of the other Wood-Elves had seen the extent of Legolas’ injuries, save for Kalin, it had been easy to turn them away for now. Ninan was not interested in badgering his Prince into telling him who had attacked him, not since he was certain it had been the Ranger, anyway.

Faidnil had been found by Galendil quickly, for he had been in the King’s rooms to wash Thranduil’s sleeping face and tidy his room for the burgeoning day, and between Galendil and Faidnil, they carried in one trip enough buckets of water for a shallow bath. Although Legolas had heard his father’s groom offer to fetch more and also to aid his Prince in bathing if need be, Legolas had called from the bathing room that it was water aplenty for his purposes and that he could manage on his own. The Prince was certain that the kind-hearted Faidnil had offered to aid the Prince in bathing because he had been told that Legolas was injured. It burned the laegel’s pride to know that soon likely all of Imladris would know the weaknesses of Mirkwood – a King who was insentient and insensible, a Prince who could not fend for himself, and sentries who could not seem to protect either of their sovereigns.

It was one such sentry who had carried the buckets into the bathing room and emptied the cool river water into the tub. Kalin had performed this task efficiently, quickly and without complaint, while Legolas gathered the items he needed to bathe. He had hobbled back and forth with careful effort, taking to the tub soap and the pitcher from the washstand, always under the watchful eye of Kalin, who seemed to be waiting for Legolas to fall. Fairly soon, the Prince knew, he would not be able to walk. Already his exhausted, battered body was failing him and he would require Kalin’s help for even the simplest of matters. But for now, the sentry had gone into the bedroom, allowing Legolas the privacy he desperately needed to undertake the task of hiding the shameful evidence of his abuse. In the end, it had finally taken Legolas ordering Kalin to quiet and leave him be before the sentry would stop asking him who had assaulted him and if he could help his Prince. His fellow Wood-Elf had stopped harassing him for the time being, but the questions would begin again soon enough. Kalin was nothing if not indomitable in the safekeeping and well-being of his charge.

Standing hurt him, sitting hurt him, walking hurt him. He was only hoping that the water would soothe the ache between his legs; likewise, Legolas wanted to wash the feeling of Estel's seed from him. With the change of his trust, Legolas felt sullied by the Ranger's hateful rapaciousness and more so by the sticky reminder of it on his body. The water rippled pleasantly under his fingers and even though the room was already warm from the summery air of the dawning morning, the water felt much cooler to his touch than he had expected. Dark and full of shadows, the tub called to him, the desire to be clean always one that he loved to sate, but more so this bright morning, when his wretched faer felt more tainted with betrayal and sorrow than his rhaw felt blemished with blood and bruise. Having never replaced his tunic and undershirt after Elrond’s examination, the laegel had only to pull off his boots and peel away the leather trousers that were damaged inside with the dark red of his tacky, drying blood. Balling the trousers up tightly and placing them in a basket under a few other articles of clothes that needed washing, the laegel hoped that they would not be found ere he had the chance to burn them. Legolas moved as rapidly as his injuries would allow in hopes that he could be in the tub of water before his sentry inevitably came in to check on him.

The young Elf first tried to sit on the edge in the effort to be as careful as possible as he climbed into the slippery tub. He could ill afford to fall again. When his lower body rested on the hard, unforgiving stone, the Elf soon hopped off and into the water with a groan of pain, causing the water to splatter and drawing Kalin's attention at once.

"Legolas?" he called only a short moment before entering.

Suddenly wishing he had brought a towel to rest his aching rear upon, the laegel sat on his heels in the water instead, which brought the shallowly filled tub's water only above his waist, thereby exposing no more of his torso than had been exposed prior to his removing his trousers. He had thought only to get into the tub before Kalin could see what coated his Prince's thighs. Legolas needed no more humiliation today and for the moment, he wanted to answer no more questions. But there was further evidence of Estel's attack on him other than his rope burned wrists and battered torso that the sentry had already seen. The habitually protective sentry might now see the bruises around Legolas' hips, where the human's touch had been so adamant and merciless that crescent shaped cuts from the man's fingernails topped contusions that were the shape of Aragorn's strong and calloused fingers. Those once loving digits had unforgivingly gripped Legolas’ hips to help the human spear the Wood-Elf's unwilling body with his own eager flesh. Even if Kalin had never seen wounds such as these before, it would not be hard for him to guess why they were there.

As he entered and came closer to the tub, Kalin had his head lowered in deference to his Prince’s privacy until he was sure that the younger Elf was in the water. Although Kalin had seen his charge unclothed plenty of times before, and had even helped Thranduil bathe the Prince months ago when the laegel had been unable to do so for himself after trying to quell the scar with the dagger, the sentry seemed to know that the younger Elf was uncomfortable with being watched. It did not make the sentry leave, however, as Kalin was too worried that his damaged Prince would come to further harm from being too stubborn to ask for help. He could order Kalin to leave the room, but at the slightest groan or splash of water, the sentry would come running back in to check on him. So instead, Legolas did his best to ignore Kalin and turned to trying to wash his bloodied hair. Using the pitcher he’d already obtained from the washstand, he dipped it in the tub and tried to pour it over his head, though the water mostly ran down his back as his arms were shaking too badly in trying to hold the pitcher aloft. It would have to do.

"Leave me be, Kalin," he whispered fiercely and with a stifled grunt reached for the bottle of soap oil he had sat nearby earlier. Try as he might to make his sentry listen, to assure Kalin that he was fine and wanted solitude, his hoarse, quavering voice gave him away as to how desperately in need of assistance he was. Pouring the citrus-smelling oil into his hands, Legolas began the painful task of scrubbing the blood from his long, tangled hair. Although both of the blows to his head had been severe, Elrond had deemed that neither had needed stitches. He took care around them so as not to reopen the wounds and restart their bleeding. They stung as the soap hit them. Running his fingers from his soaped scalp to the ends of his hair, Legolas tried again when Kalin did not even acknowledge him, saying, "I am sore, I am filthy, and I wish to be alone."

His sentry came closer to the tub to grab the pitcher from Legolas’ trembling hands when he saw that his Prince had trouble trying to rinse the soap oil from his hair. In the water furthest from the Prince, where the laegel would not feel that he was too near, Kalin reached into the tub with the pitcher. Even without knowing that Legolas had been abused again as he had months prior, the discerning sentry could well imagine that being bound and attacked had brought back to his Prince the memories of torment he’d undergone at the hands of the merchants. Even still, the laegel tensed at Kalin’s nearness, though not because he feared the sentry’s proximity to his exposed body, but because his exposed body might evince to Kalin more than Legolas was willing to tell right now.

Not once did Kalin look towards his Prince’s nude form as he filled the pitcher to the brim with the cool river water in the tub. "I do not care that you wish to be alone, my friend. You are not leaving my sight again, not until we are back in Eryn Galen and maybe not even then," the usually malleable Silvan declared fervently, looking Legolas in the eye for the first time since entering the bathing room. "I am your servant, however, in seeing that you are no longer sore, and no longer filthy."

Without being asked, the sentry took the pitcher of water and slowly began to pour it over his Prince's head, back, and shoulders. For his part, it somewhat relieved the laegel. The pitcher seemed heavy and his arms, stretched beyond their limit by Estel earlier and bound for an inordinate amount of time, were too tired to continue. Taking the bottle of soap oil in hand, Kalin questioned his Prince, “Shall I wash your back, Legolas?”

He nodded and tried not to become overwrought as Kalin skimmed his soapy hands quickly over his Prince’s battered shoulders and back, never once going farther down than where the soapy water hid him past his waist. With the same disinterested detachment as a healer would wash a wound, Kalin performed this task as quickly as possible and then picked up the pitcher again to rinse away the lather.

Truly, the despair and betrayal wore him out more than any of his wounds, and he thought to himself, _Perhaps if I can make it through this bath, I can go sit with Ada until he awakens._ He contemplated no further than that. Seeing his father awake and then gone from the valley was his utmost concern. Thinking too far into the future was dangerous. He did not know what would happen to him after he managed to get his people out of Imladris and on their way to the forest, but thinking of it now only caused his desire to fade to resurface. Absently, he rubbed at his chest with the soap oil suds under Kalin’s vigilant gaze. Elrond’s parting words to Kalin – not to let Legolas long out of his reach – were to be Kalin’s new philosophy, the Prince could tell. It would not surprise him in the least if his sentry were to take to touching him as Elrond and his family often did to forfend the scar’s suasion. Having finished his arms and chest, he tried to splash himself with water, only to find that the attentive Kalin was at ready with the pitcher to sluice away the last of the frothy soap.

"I am your most trusted servant, am I not, Legolas?" the sentry asked fretfully, suddenly, sounding as if the mere idea that Legolas would doubt him would break his heart irrevocably. Kalin placed the pitcher on the floor beside the tub and crouched nearby to his Prince to await his answer.

He felt compelled to assure his friend, but realized that he was keeping the sentry out of his thoughts. _I have told Estel that I will not accuse him of anything. I cannot break that promise and risk Adar's life just to appease my own misery._ He wished he could share the burden, however, for at the moment, Kalin was the only friend he had. The Elf Prince had just been contemplating how Kalin would soon take to drawing him from his thoughts with a touch, as did his second family, when the sentry did just that upon seeing his Prince lost in wearisome deliberation. When his benevolent sentry placed a hand on his bare shoulder, the strained Prince startled fiercely and nearly leapt from the tub to escape the sudden threat, though the same hand held him there, and then the sentry’s other hand took hold of Legolas’ bruised upper arm to keep him from going anywhere.

"My Prince," the Silvan sentry susurrated, sighing softly, "I am sorry." Kalin released his hold when it was evident that Legolas was calmed and would not injure himself trying to flee. The sentry moved so that he knelt down near to the laegel and so that he remained shorter than Legolas was in the tub, and thus would not be looking down upon the Prince. "What is happening? Please, I want nothing more than to protect you, as is my duty, as has been my honor these many years," his sentry beseeched of him. “I cannot protect you if you do not tell me who has hurt you.”

A knock at the door interrupted them, and a disgruntled Kalin left at once to see whom it was before anyone could try to enter. While listening to Kalin speak to Galendil about the bandaging a servant had brought to them under Elrond’s orders, Legolas took the opportunity of being alone to scrub at his lower body. Using his hands, as he had forgotten a cloth with which to wash himself, the Prince rubbed the oily soap into his skin. The bathwater had turned the dingy color of well-diluted wine from the blood he’d washed from his hair, thighs, and rear. He managed to complete his task before Kalin had finished talking to Galendil of some matter concerning their preparations to depart the valley. Pulling the stopper that held the water in so that his sentry would not have the chance to see how bloodied it had become, Legolas crawled from the tub as gently as he could so that he would not fall. His water-slicked feet slid as his legs shimmied in pain and he had barely pulled the towel around his waist when he heard the door to his bedchambers shut. Soon after, his sentry reappeared in the bathing room.

“Galendil has said that we are ready to depart the moment you command it, Legolas,” his sentry told him. Kalin looked around the bathing room in search of something, and once he found it folded neatly on the table with the towels, just where Faidnil had put it during his thorough cleaning of Legolas’ rooms, he brought the Prince’s robe to him.

He took the robe and held it in his lap. The mere act of bathing and then getting out of the bathtub had sapped the laegel of all strength. He sat now on the edge of the tub, which pained his abused body, but he did not have the strength to rise just yet. He needed to tell his sentry that their departure was delayed until the King awoke, but even that seemed too difficult a task right now. _I have to get dressed. I have to go sit with my father. At least if I am there Estel cannot reach me. Until my father wakens. I must only endure until my father awakens and leaves the valley._ Shutting his eyes in concentration, the Wood-Elf tried to muster the courage to stand, knowing that he would likely end up on the hard stone tiles. Unfortunately, closing his eyes caused his wavering consciousness to falter, and without being aware that it was happening, the laegel nearly pitched forward onto the floor when the darkness of insentience overwhelmed his mind. Two firm hands kept him from falling.

Holding his Prince up, Kalin anxiously called out, as if trying to wake the younger Elf, “Legolas!”

And when Legolas opened his eyes, his sentry was there, his familiar, friendly face pale as he waited for some response from the laegel. The Prince found he could not answer. Between his exhausted body and overcome mind, the younger Wood-Elf could only nod at the sentry to show that he was still aware. Again, without being asked, Kalin helped the Prince, this time aiding him in standing. The sentry could have tried to lift the laegel up by his arms, but mindful of the many contusions upon his Prince, Kalin instead knelt down before him and offered his shoulder, which Legolas grabbed onto as he pulled himself into standing and then used the same shoulder to steady himself as if the sentry in front of him were a cane upon which he leant.

Although he hadn't been able to scrub his flesh as well as he'd liked, the Silvan was satisfied that no evidence other than bruises were left on his body. In trying to pull the robe around his shoulders, to hide his aching and chilled torso, he unbalanced himself and nearly fell yet again, causing Kalin’s hands to fly out to what was before him, which given that he knelt before Legolas ended up being his Prince’s calves. With the towel around his waist, much of the laegel’s lower half was covered, but right in front of Kalin and onto which he clung to balance Legolas were the much-bruised lower limbs of his Prince.

"Even here you are hurt," the sentry said in wonder, apparently only just now realizing the magnitude of what had actually happened to his Prince. Not even Elrond had seen the laegel’s legs, and so not even the Peredhel knew the extent of the punishing beating that the Wood-Elf had endured. "Legolas," he whispered, remembering his purpose and standing with his hands still out to catch the laegel should he wobble again. Taking the robe from Legolas’ hands, he swung it over the Prince’s shoulders and helped him secure it around his waist. "It is a wonder you can stand.”

“It is a wonder yes, and it seems that I cannot stand for much longer,” the laegel admitted in a voice husky with enervated agony, for already his leg quivered under him. The pain of his healing thigh, left untended for the last couple of nights and its ache renewed under his faer’s grief, rivaled only that of his head, which was throbbing from both the hits he had taken to it and the milk of the poppy’s lingering effects. Coughing to clear his sore throat, he told Kalin with disgrace, “I may not make it into the bedroom.”

In the end, Kalin did not even try to help his Prince walk, for Legolas’ thigh was twitching in convulsive cramps even as he stood still upon it, causing his leg to jerk in discomfort. Instead, the sentry merely knelt and swept his arms under the Prince’s knees and behind his back to carry him into the bedroom, where he gently deposited the laegel on the bed. Dripping wet and dizzy from being carried, the Prince would have been mortified if any of the other sentries had been there to do what Kalin had done, but Kalin was not flustered in the least to take on the role of nurse. Kalin had done much the same in Mirkwood months ago when Legolas was recovering from having tried to carve the flesh from his thigh.

His fellow Wood-Elf merely went about his business in finding the Prince a nightshirt from the trunk at the end of the laegel’s bed – the very trunk that he had fallen against an hour or more earlier – and silently helped Legolas to put it on. The laegel pulled the wet towel out from around his waist once he was hidden in the long nightshirt, which came down well past his knees. Somehow, he had managed to keep Kalin from seeing anything that might make the sentry suspicious that he had been abused in a more intimate way than just a beating.

Without preamble and not willing to keep silent about it any longer, Kalin plopped tiredly down upon the couch to ask, “Who was it, Legolas? I have promised not to leave your side, so I promise not to run off and kill whomever you name. Not just yet.”

Although not said jokingly, Legolas could not help but to smile and shake his head at Kalin. But then, the notion of Kalin running off to murder Aragorn for his trespasses ruined his momentary humor. The Ranger may have ensured the laegel’s demise but his love for the human had not yet died. Kalin would not let up until he had the truth from Legolas, this the Prince knew, and he needed to have his sentry’s trust. More important to the laegel, at the moment, was that he feared that should his grief claim him, he would not have told anyone who had poisoned his King and thus the sentries would not know from whom to protect Thranduil, for if Legolas faded, Estel might abandon his treachery or he might escalate it. The Prince could not be sure.

“You cannot tell anyone I have told you this,” he warned his sentry. “I tell you this because I trust you will keep it to yourself. Please Kalin. If we leave the valley when my father awakes, then the matter will be over. That is all that he required.”

He did not mention that he would not be leaving the valley with the King and his servants and sentries. Right now, he needed Kalin’s compliance, and he would not gain it by admitting that once they were gone from the valley and far enough away that his father’s well-being was ensured, Legolas intended to die.

Clearly, the faithful sentry did not wish to agree, for he moved about in agitation where he sat on the couch. After a few moments, though, he nodded his head, saying, “If it keeps our King and you safe for now to keep my silence, then I promise that I will.”

“Then I will tell you.” Even before he spoke the name of his attacker, Kalin wished to comfort his Prince. The sight of Legolas’ slumped shoulders and bowed head made him appear like the Elfling that he had once been, under the intolerant, judging wrath of his father and awaiting a blow for some minor misdeed. The Prince disclosed to his sentry with unreserved dejection, "Estel has done this. Who else? He admitted to me that he poisoned my father, and told me that no one would believe he had confessed, because all believe me to be mad from grief."

The sentry was swallowing rapidly, as if he had something stuck in his throat, but otherwise, Kalin was motionless with anger. "Estel? I should not have let him leave with his head still on his shoulders," the sentry hissed, again disquieting the distracted Wood-Elf, though drawing his attention hastily when Kalin banged his fist upon the arm of the couch, rattling the ancient furniture with his fervor. “I do not understand why you would protect him with your silence. You told us that you were wrong to accuse him.”

Outside, the summer morning was blossoming into a beautiful day. Birds were already singing, the buzz of insects was beginning to grow louder, and even from inside, Legolas could hear the distant song of some she-Elf as she went about her morning chores. Inside his room, it might as well have been winter. He tried to explain his reasoning, “Elrond did not believe me. He will protect Estel at all costs. I could not have our people try to force Elrond into accepting Estel’s guilt. He will not do it, and we cannot begin a row with Imladris when we are currently stuck here until my father awakens.”

“But we can leave this moment, if you wish it, my Prince,” the sentry assured him, repeating as he had told him earlier, “Galendil says that all preparations are made. We only wait for your command.”

To stall his explanation, since he was quite certain that whatever he said would make him seem as mad as Aragorn avowed him to be, Legolas took the bandaging that the servant had brought and tried to wrap it around his wrists, which had begun again to seep blood from the chafed wounds there. However, Kalin promptly leapt up from the couch and took over this task for his Prince. Although no healer, Kalin was adept through his eagerness to help his charge, and he made quick work of his task.

Legolas watched his sentry wind the snow-white linen around his arms, which quickly began to turn florid as pungent blood leached through it. Whereas having Elrond touch the Prince had caused him discomfort so soon after his being assaulted so violently, having Kalin’s kind hands on him only eased his mind. He didn’t distrust his other sentries or the other Wood-Elves, but currently, Kalin was the only one of them who Legolas knew to be loyal to him above anyone else. As hard as it was to force himself into telling the sentry everything, when his every worry tried to convince him not to, as doing so risked his father’s well-being, the laegel told Kalin, “We cannot leave the valley. Estel told me that to accuse him again, to let anyone know that his fist and boot caused these bruises, or to take any action against him, would forfeit my father’s life. If we leave the valley before my father awakes, my father will never awaken, Kalin, or so Estel claims. We must bide our time and follow his instructions. It is the only way to keep our King safe.”

Folding the last end of the linen under the wrappings to hold it in place, Kalin stood from where he crouched, his gaze upon his hands and the blood – his Prince’s blood – that stained them. He wiped the red gingerly onto his own tunic, which was already marred in several places by Legolas’ blood. “How could Estel hope to accomplish such a thing when we have sentries placed in your father’s rooms? He cannot poison the King again, not when we keep out all but our own people. Even the water used to wash his face has been carried from the river by Faidnil himself,” the beleaguered sentry argued. Pacing to the fireplace, his soiled hands clasped behind his back, Kalin strode from the fireplace and then to his Prince as he spoke.

“I do not know. Estel is an herbalist. He was tutored under the best herbalist of this Age – his own foster father, Elrond. Estel may have used some poison that requires an antidote, or he may have some way to poison the King without being in my father’s presence. I do not know how he poisoned my father the first time, so I cannot guess.” He tried to watch Kalin as he paced, but it fatigued him to see his tireless sentry so active, so instead he looked out the doors of the balcony, where only hours earlier Aragorn had entered and complicated the very arrangement that he had insisted be put in place. “But he said he will kill as many of our kith who stand in his way, until he can kill my father, should I accuse him again or tell anyone that he was the one who attacked me. I will not sacrifice any of your lives when his requirements are so simple. When my father is awake, all of you will be safe to leave. There is no need to take the chance.”

“That is our honor, to protect our King and Prince with our lives,” Kalin explained, as if this in itself was a good enough reason for them to die when Legolas could keep them all safe. “But why then did you tell us that he was innocent? That you were wrong about his being the one to have done this? Should not the King’s sentries know that Estel is the threat?”

His aching head could not find the answers to these questions. Mithfindl’s logic had been hastily supplied and Legolas could only recite what he’d been instructed, what he had been told to believe. Holding his forehead in one hand, the laegel closed his eyes against the too bright light in deliberation as he tried to make sense of it. In the end, he was forced to admit although he knew that Kalin would rail against it, saying, “Estel desires me to remain here in the valley after you have all left. My accusations mean nothing if I remain with him here. It will only prove to any who knew of it that I was mad with grief and wrong to accuse him. His reputation will not be tarnished, my father and our people will be gone, and so there will be no one here to refute his ownership of me. Elrond and the twins will not side with me, Kalin. They already think me mad. After I am here alone with him, I do not know what he intends, but I suspect that I will not live through it,” the laegel concluded, and then immediately wished that he had kept that last thought to himself.

Fortunately, Kalin did not seem to notice the dismal prediction of his Prince and considered only the suggestion that Elrond and the twins were no longer trustworthy. The sentry shook his head at the foreignness of such a proposal. He had been coming to Imladris almost as often as the Prince had been over the many years, and although he did not know Elrond and his brood as well as did Legolas, the idea that the Noldor would perpetrate or perpetuate such a scheme made no sense to him. However, he could do little but to nod his head in acceptance of the laegel’s conclusion, as the Prince knew his second family better than the sentry did. Regardless of whether Legolas was right about Elrond and his twin sons, Kalin had no reason to doubt his Prince’s word that Estel had harmed both the King and Prince, and the Wood-Elf sentry wanted as much as Legolas to leave the valley and be home in the Greenwood.

He was not going without his Prince, however, and said as much, “Then if we wait until the King awakens, and your father, his sentries, and his servants are gone, what is to stop you from leaving? Our people will be out of the valley, beyond the Ranger’s reach, and Estel will have no leverage over you.” Pacing again to the fireplace and back, Kalin suddenly spun around to face his liege, looking as if he had not plainly heard his Prince’s explanation or had just noted what Legolas had actually said. He asked in disbelief, “You do not know what he intends? You suspect you will not live through it?” The Wood-Elf sentry incredulously huffed a time or two ere he began his pacing yet again, this time with more urgency, to claim, “I do not understand all of what is occurring, or how the Ranger could accomplish the threats he has made, but if you remain, I will remain with you. You cannot think that I would leave you in Imladris with the human now that you have told me he is the cause of your suffering, my Prince. The moment that the others are safe, I am taking you home.”

As much as it warmed his frigid faer to hear Kalin’s reaffirmation of his loyalty, Legolas knew that he would have to force the sentry into leaving when the time came. Now, though, was not the time for argument over it. Back and forth, the sentry paced in front of him. The Prince could see from the way his sentry moved, how he shook his head to himself, how he paused in his stride before resuming his pacing, and slowed and quickened his pace that Kalin was lost in thought and soon the sentry would begin his questions anew. It did not take many more circuits of the area around the fireplace before Kalin’s cogitations ended on the same issue that Legolas could not understand – how Estel could have turned on him. And so, still unable to understand why one of the few humans that he’d ever found trustworthy had turned out to be so horrible, Kalin stopped his pacing to stand in front of Legolas, asking, “But why, my Prince? Why would Estel turn on you? Why poison our King? After all that he has done for you, after what you have done for him – if ever I had to trust your life into someone’s hands for safekeeping, Estel is one of the few I would have chosen without qualm, because I thought he would not hesitate to lay down his own life to preserve your life.”

The Elf Prince had learnt his lesson on this, as well. He had felt his rhaw and faer were safe in Estel’s care and had paid the price for his ignorance. He trusted many of his own kind – the sentries, his father, Lord Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir, his friends in the forest, and his fellow Silvan every time they went on the hunt for Orcs and spider and were dependent on each other for safety. Never, though, in his long years, had Legolas ever trusted anyone in the way he had Estel, which was strange in that he had known the human for the shortest amount of time. In those few years, however, he had placed his life in the Adan’s keeping, as Estel had placed his in the keeping of Legolas. More recently, when the Wood-Elf had thought he may never be able to endure the proximity of another again, much less the intimate touch of someone else, he had placed his faith in Aragorn’s loving care and healing hands by placing his body at the gentle mercy of his human lover.

In one night, all that trust had been rescinded, washed away like his memories of the night of the feast and as vacant as his faer was of light. _I may never trust anyone again,_ the laegel thought. He closed his eyes but quickly opened them when his whole body almost collapsed in absolute exhaustion. Looking to his sentry, Legolas saw that Kalin had missed his almost losing consciousness, as Kalin was now pacing to the open balcony doors and back while he waited impatiently for his Prince’s answer. He finally answered Kalin, just to keep himself awake, saying, “For revenge, I assume, he poisoned our King. He has turned on me because I accused him. He poisoned my father, and when I accused him of doing so, I earned his wrath, as well,” the Prince explicated, but even though he recited the reasoning he had been given, the laegel found that the logic was bizarre, and the events unlikely to have been perpetrated by Aragorn. Yet, he could not question these ideations.

"But this, Legolas," Kalin said as his path led him back to Legolas. He pointed at the scabbed skin of the laegel's mouth: Estel's gag had split the corners where his lower and upper lips met. "Where did this come from? This is not from mere threats. Why did he tie you and beat you, if he loves you and wants you to remain with him? How did he ever manage to best you in an altercation, anyway?"

 _Tell him that Estel tied you while you laid there, too dumb and trusting to fight, until the Ranger had four fingers lodged inside your arse. Tell him that he rode you like a whore, like you were nothing._ The scar spoke, reminding him of Aragorn's taunt from earlier, _Tell him that Estel fucked you like the filth you are._

He didn't say any of those things; instead, the Wood-Elf gasped loudly in sudden dolor. The scar, the inherent hatred that he felt for himself, for being weak and unfit, for never pleasing his father and for never succeeding where he had been expected to excel, had found a new method of attack, a new reason to hound him with its tirade of recrimination. He had learnt to live with many of the uncertainties and accusations that it made against him, but hearing its replicative reproach in regards to the Ranger and the scar’s insinuations about Estel’s lust for him being the result of having watched him suffer was unbearable and would drive him truly mad if he had to bear it for very much longer.

 _Quiet,_ he told the voice, feeling just as mad as they all thought him to be in arguing with the disembodied hatred of the mar. _Can you not leave me be? At least until my father is awake and safely away from here?_

A hand upon his leg startled him, but this time, he did not try to flee. He knew it was a friendly hand that lingered over the scars upon his thigh, for the censuring voice of his grief ended at once.

“My Prince?” the sentry whispered, having crouched down in front of the laegel to look into his downturned face. He could see in Kalin’s worried expression that the sentry knew the source of Legolas’ sudden sorrow.

“No more questions,” he pled, closing his eyes so that he would not have to see the distress of his sentry. Kalin, like everyone else, it seemed, continued to suffer on Legolas’ behalf since the Prince could not contain his heartache and only vexed them all. “I am tired, Kalin. Let me rest so that I can go sit with my father for a while.”

Seeing how weak the Prince truly was, the sentry merely nodded his agreement. Drawing back the sheet on the bed, Kalin gently aided the Prince in moving so that he could lay his head on the pillows and then shifted Legolas’ legs onto the mattress when it proved too much for the laegel to do without pain. The Prince settled his sore body into some semblance of comfort while Kalin swore, “In a few hours, if you do not awake on your own, I will wake you to go sit with the King. Oiolaire and Galendil are still outside the door, and I promise you, I will be right here, my Prince, while you sleep and when you awaken.”

Again, the laegel smiled at his sentry, although Kalin had already walked out of the room to the balcony attached. He did not doubt that anyone who tried to enter would be met with the point of Kalin’s blade in his belly. But still, the Prince did not want to sleep. With Kalin sitting on the balcony, ensuring that no one came inside by that means and also to pace in fury where it would not pester his Prince, the laegel still did not feel as if he could possibly fall into reverie.

It was with this disbelief in the forefront of his mind that he soon proved himself wrong and fell deeply into sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

Even before Ninan had come to tell them that the Ranger still sat in the hall outside, Legolas had known that Estel was near. He could feel the human as if he were in the room watching him instead of sitting beyond the door. Since Legolas had been adamant to retract his accusation of the human, the sentries did not insist that Estel vacate the hallway, but nor would they permit the Ranger inside the King’s room. Several times already this day the Prince had tried to persuade the sentries that he had been wrong and the human innocent, all in the effort to continue his instructions from Estel not to cast the blame upon him. Try as he might to assert the human’s innocence, the Mirkwood sentries did not believe their Prince. Although he did not know it, it was the Prince’s adamancy that Estel was innocent so soon after being attacked that was the cause for his fellow Wood-Elves’ disbelief. They thought the Ranger had beaten their Prince and threatened him to stay silent – which was, in fact, exactly what had happened, according to the laegel’s manipulated memories.

A cold bowl of vegetable broth sat on the table next to the bed. During one of the King’s more awake moments, when he seemed almost to be in normal Elven reverie and thus capable of responding on a basic level, the Prince had spooned minute amounts of the nutritive liquid into his father’s mouth. Thranduil had frowned each time he’d been given a spoonful and then swallowed, looking very much as if he were about to wake to complain about the poor quality of the food. Legolas would have done anything if his father had actually woken up to throw one of his infamous tantrums during those moments. Afraid to give his father too much of the broth, lest the King stop swallowing and choke, the bowl of liquid sat barely eaten and now forgotten.

After having awoken in his own bed at his sentry Kalin’s gentle insistence, the laegel had dressed with Kalin’s help, once more surreptitiously hiding his secretive injuries from his sentry, and then had come straightaway to his father’s rooms. Earlier the Wood-Elf Prince had not been able to walk at all, but a few hours of much needed sleep had allowed the overtaxed muscles of his healing thigh to relax, and although he still hobbled and had needed to lean upon Kalin just to get down the short hall to his King’s rooms, he had made it without falling and most importantly, without being carried as he had before when trying to get from the tub to the bed. Now, as he sat to watch his father in his forced slumber, the Wood-Elf wanted to massage the emergent throbbing in his leg, but his sentry nearby would have terminated this immediately. Kalin was already stretched too thin in his worry over his Prince and King and in keeping the secret that Legolas had told no one save him – the laegel did not wish to add to Kalin’s burden lest it cause the sentry to snap. The last thing that Legolas needed was for Kalin’s overprotective inclination to inflame his fellow Wood-Elf into confronting Estel.

 _Please wake, Ada,_ he pled to his father. Moving to sit on the bed beside the elder Elf and grimacing as the pressure on his lower body provoked more discomfort, the Prince took his King’s hand. _Please, Ada. I cannot trust the Noldor, our own sentries think I have lost my wits, and Estel has turned against me. If you do not waken, then I will lie down beside you to die._

As if in answer to the laegel’s ardent implorations, Thranduil sighed in his sleep. For the briefest of moments, Legolas was certain that his King would awaken, that Thranduil had heard his begging, and that for once in his long life, his father would be the one to whom he could turn for help. But the King’s breathing became soft and regular again, his brow cleared, and though he looked no worse than before, the King looked no better, no more awake, and no more apt to aid the embattled Prince.

Legolas’ body ached. His head ached. He had never hurt in so many different areas of his rhaw before. However, the most insistent of his many pains was the concomitantly sharp and yet somehow still diffuse agony of betrayal. It crept through him like a snake through the leaves, causing his muscles to twitch and jump as it slithered along his flesh, and then invariably it coiled again in his chest, where it would constrict around his fraught heart until he felt his faer would bolt.

Kalin had been pacing the entire time they had been in the King’s rooms. True to his word, he had remained by Legolas’ side at all times, not even giving him a moment of privacy earlier when the younger Silvan had made use of the chamber pot to relieve his bladder. Every so often, the sentry would stop his pacing, walk to Legolas, and inspect his Prince, ascertaining that the laegel was in no great pain or suffering from a grief so unbearable that he would not be able to withstand it. Although Legolas had not heard the scar’s voice during his time in his father’s room this day, the sentry had also been certain to place his hand upon his Prince as often as feasible in an effort to draw Legolas away from his ponderings and away from the scar’s voice, should he hear it.

As the night now came upon them and the King had not awoken, Legolas’ injuries and sorrow began to take their toll on his endurance. Finally giving in to the need to massage his aching thigh, Legolas tenderly palpated the seizing muscle there, which brought Kalin to him forthwith. Although the sentry did not force Legolas’ hand away, as would have one of the Noldor or the Ranger, he did lay his own hand upon his Prince’s to stop the laegel’s action, asking, “What is it?”

 _If I do not leave soon, Kalin may end up having to carry me,_ the Prince decided as the muscle of his leg protested his sitting for so long with a spasm, but aloud he told Kalin, “I wish to return to my own room, to rest for a while.”

Kalin needed no explanation for the why the Prince wanted to leave. With the other sentries well within hearing distance, he would seek no more explanation from his Prince, either. Kalin was not willing to give the other Wood-Elves any reason to doubt their Prince’s authority, as they would if they knew that the scar spoke to the young Elf once more. The sentry pulled the Prince to his feet with all gentleness, his hands out to catch Legolas when he wobbled a bit before getting his balance. Barely loud enough to be called a whisper, the sentry admonished, “Estel is outside.”

He did not answer except to nod his head that he had heard this warning. The human had been outside the room all day and would be until the Prince left, and then Aragorn would undoubtedly follow Legolas to his rooms, likely to wait in his own rooms until the Elf left his. If the Ranger wanted to talk to him, he would not be able to avoid it, although he hoped with all this being that the human would leave him be. _Although now would be a better time than later, if he wishes to berate or instruct me again. At least I can still stand for the time being._ He did not consider what he would do if the Ranger required more from him, if the human wished to mistreat him as he had hours ago. Just thinking of the Ranger’s early morning attack on him made the laegel’s slinking, suffocating grief begin its constriction again.

Kalin was at Legolas’ side, walking half a step in front of the laegel as if to push from the way any who would try to stop their leaving; but of course, no one wished to stop them. Since none of the other sentries had seen all of the damage perpetrated against their Prince, they did not know how injured he truly was, but they could see for themselves the sorrow and weariness he carried. If they thought it odd that their Prince leant upon Kalin to walk from the room when they had only been told that the human had roughed him up a bit, they would say nothing of it to him. As strange as it was, Legolas could tell that they were satisfied at his grieving, for it only continued to confirm to them that the Prince was blameless in their King’s condition.

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Aragorn sat outside the King’s rooms, where none but Silvan had entered for the last day. He stayed there because the Prince was within, he knew. He had followed Legolas from his room to Thranduil’s guest room, not trying to hide that he was in pursuit of the Prince, as both sentries at Legolas’ door and then at Thranduil’s door had seen Estel, and had he looked up or noticed anything other than the floor under his feet, the Prince might have noticed him, as well.

He had never felt so bereft of hope. Legolas did not trust him, the Silvan were beyond suspicious of him, and he was forced into inaction by Lord Elrond’s edict that they respect the Wood-Elf sentries’ wishes for the Noldor to refrain from their kith and most especially their Prince. Unlike in Mirkwood, Aragorn did not feel that he was alone in his worry over Greenleaf, for in fact, it seemed to disturb Elrond a great deal that he could not tend to either the King or Prince’s injuries. The twins were just as upset, but were currently trying to aid the laegel in a different way, so were not forced into inaction, as was the Ranger. Even now, though he was in his own home and a stone’s throw from his rooms, the sentries from Mirkwood surveiled him as if he were an intruder.

 _I need to speak to Glorfindel,_ he thought wearily, wishing that the sentinel would appear from thin air so that he would not need to go find him. Aragorn did not want to leave the laegel’s vicinity, even if he could not be by his side. If someone were to attack the Wood-Elf again, Estel intended to be at ready to thrash whoever it was. _I wish I had asked more questions of Glorfindel at the feast. Perhaps he knows more of what Mithfindl was trying to gain from Thranduil. Perhaps he can think of some cogent motive behind these strange occurrences, since we can find none that makes sense._

That morning, after their father had left to seek out Erestor and Glorfindel for their counsel, Estel and his twin brothers had done their own investigation. They had gone to the rooms in the Last Homely House where Mithfindl stayed when not in his father’s house out in the lands farther from the valley or out on patrol with the other Imladrian guards, but the warrior had not been there or had not answered their knocking. Being as it had been the middle of the night, the trio had not broken down the door, as much as they had desired, lest they wake that entire wing of the house. However, even right now Elladan and Elrohir were doing their own spying and were keeping watch for Mithfindl, having told Aragorn that they would enlist a few friends and servants who could be trusted to remain quiet about the pursuit, even if the twins would not tell them why they searched for Mithfindl. He had not seen his brothers since parting from them after dawn so did not know if they had encountered the warrior yet. Likewise, the human had not seen his father, either, so was not sure if Elrond had found Glorfindel and Erestor, or whether the three had found any enlightenment after speaking together. With everyone else having some task to which they could apply themselves, the Ranger did the only thing that he knew to do – safeguard Legolas to ensure his welfare.

So all this day, from the moment that he had heard Legolas leave his own chambers to come to his father’s rooms, and all the time in between then and now, sitting in the hallway under the trenchant, incisive stares of the King’s guards, the human abided. His patience was eroding in his wait for the Elf to appear again, though even should Legolas come out of the King’s rooms, the Ranger was unsure of what he would do except to follow the Elf from here back to his rooms. He had been told not to try to speak to the Elf without Legolas and Kalin’s permission, but he would endeavor to get that permission, just for the chance to entreat the Prince again.

When he felt that he might go mad with expectation, and when he had finally convinced himself to ask the sentries to fetch the Prince, to ask for an audience, the door to the King’s room opened and the laegel and his sentry departed. At last, the Wood-Elf Prince was leaving his father’s rooms. Legolas was looking only at the stone floor under his feet as he limped through the doorway, his arm twisted in Kalin’s arm as he did so, just as he had that morning.

Now that he knew how battered the laegel truly was, the Ranger’s chest seized at the pain he saw in Legolas’ face from merely trying to walk. Although the Prince did not look up, so intent was he on placing one foot in front of the other without falling, Kalin looked directly at Estel as he exited the room, as if he had known that the Ranger was outside. And perhaps he had, given that the sentry had taken his Prince’s accusation against the human to heart and now distrusted him, as did the other sentries. _They have likely told Kalin, and Legolas, that I was out here all day. And knowing so, neither of them came out here to speak to me,_ the frustrated human regretted.

Kalin and the Prince drew near before the sentry gave the Ranger his attention: the moment that Aragorn stood from the bench, the sentry abruptly extricated his arm from the Prince’s arm, which caused the laegel to stumble at the unanticipated loss of support. Kalin sidestepped so that he was in front of Legolas before with deadly resolve he marched the few steps between him and the Ranger.

“What trouble do you intend to cause now?” the sentry asked fiercely, looking back to where the sentries stationed outside the King’s door watched on in silent consideration ere he turned his attention back to the Adan.

Aragorn had never seen the sentry this livid. _Clearly, even though Greenleaf has professed my innocence, his people have not taken his absolution to heart,_ he rued, watching as the sentries at the King’s door perked up, their hands moving to the blades at their waists as they waited for some sign from Legolas or Kalin that Estel was of danger to them. Kalin turned back to the King’s guards and arrested their imminent interruption with a minute shake of his head. The other sentries took their hands from their swords but kept their eyes on their Prince, his sentry, and the human they believed to be his assailant. Although Kalin had called them off from removing the Ranger from their Prince’s presence, at the slightest provocation, they would eliminate the perceived menace to Legolas.

In a few steps, the Prince had shambled back to his sentry, his hand fisted at Kalin’s side, the pale digits twisting in the fabric of the sentry’s tunic. At first, the human thought that Legolas would pull his sentry away, but it seemed that the laegel was trying to hold himself up. Without removing his defensive scrutiny of the Ranger, Kalin held out his arm for his Prince to latch onto, which Legolas did instantly. As puerile as it made him feel, Estel was envious of Kalin. He longed to touch his Elven lover, even if it was merely to stand arm in arm with Legolas as the sentry did now.

“Come, Kalin. I cannot stand for much longer,” the Prince whispered so softly that Estel almost did not hear him, for desperation and agony caused the Elf’s words to sound gruff and low. It could also have been the strangling bruises around the laegel’s throat that caused this husky quality to Legolas’ normally melodious voice, but from the way that the laegel’s hands had turned bloodless and pale with the force with which he held onto his sentry’s arm, Aragorn saw that his lover was suffering immensely and that he did not prevaricate. Legolas was standing only through his sheer determination not to collapse.

Ignoring Kalin, he turned to his lover. “Greenleaf. Please. I need to speak with you. Let us go sit somewhere. You can rest your leg while you hear me out.”

“You have said all that needs to be said, Estel,” the laegel told him in the same rasping tone and still the Elf did not raise his head from where it looked down upon the ground.

The Ranger had never seen the Silvan look this ruined. The normally withy Wood-Elf was not bending under the weight of recent onus – Legolas was breaking. He had thought the Elf shattered before from the travesties that had been forced upon him, but seeing him now, the Ranger knew that this time, his Elven lover could die at any moment if an errant memory was recalled or unwitting word said to him that compounded his sorrow any further.

 _And I am the cause of this,_ the human bemoaned, deeming, _or so he believes. He thinks I have turned against him. It is only accidental that he has not given way to his anguish yet. If he waits only for his father to wake before giving his faer to Mandos, then let Thranduil not waken until this puzzle is solved._

Unwilling to give the human the opportunity to get near his Prince, the sentry edged around Estel with Legolas still behind him and still clinging to his arm. The two Wood-Elves bypassed where the Ranger stood and walked around the corner and into the family hallway. In this part of the corridor laid the doors to Elladan and Elrohir’s side-by-side rooms, and also the door to Arwen’s seldom-used rooms. The entry to Elrond’s chambers, a sitting room, and the staircase leading upwards to their father’s study and apothecary was in a small alcove near to where the Prince and sentry passed. Beyond another bend in the corridor laid the Prince’s room and then Estel’s room on the opposite side of the hall. In this spot in the hallway, none of the other Silvan sentries were within sight, but the Ranger knew that those at the King’s or the Prince’s door would come running the moment that Kalin or Legolas called out, for they were certainly within hearing. He could not just snatch the laegel and pull him into a room that locked. No, the human needed to speak with Legolas, to reason with him, and to do that, he needed to get him away from his protective guard.

"Enough. Speak with me alone, now," he crossly demanded of his lover, not coming close to the Prince at all, although from Legolas' reaction to his words, he might well have hit the laegel.

His countenance becoming more ashen and shielded, Legolas lurched to a stop as if he might fall, before he turned with one hand still holding onto his sentry and the other on the wall for further support. "What more could you want from me?" the Wood-Elf inquired, but then, as if suddenly petrified – although Aragorn could not fathom why or what the Elf had meant by his first question – Legolas changed his query to say, "What do you want, Estel?"

“To speak to you. Alone. For a few moments. That is all I want,” he promised. Taking a step closer to the Wood-Elf, he was surprised when the Prince fearfully took a step back such that his back was against the stone wall of the corridor. Even knowing that the Prince thought him to be his assailant did not account for the terror that the customarily courageous Wood-Elf displayed.

"No," Kalin answered for his Prince, believing that the laegel would want nothing to do with the Ranger. Once more, Kalin loosed himself from his charge and stepped fully in front of the human, giving Estel no access to Legolas, though he had made no move to grab the Prince. “You will stay away from him.”

"I just want to speak with you for a few moments, Legolas. Let us go into the sitting room, here," he said to Legolas, not Kalin, while pointing to the now rarely used room that Celebrian had kept for her sewing and painting, where Elrond’s kin had spent time together when the days were happier and their family all together, playing games and reading, or sitting afore the fireplace in familial contentment. He ignored Kalin's refusal and looked only to Legolas. He would never convince Kalin to allow him to speak with the Prince – more than likely, the Prince would need to order his sentry’s compliance.

Legolas did not answer but he did raise his head, though not to look at Estel. Into the open door of the sitting room did the laegel look. This room exited onto a long portico that ran along the secluded family garden, where the only access was from Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, or Arwen's chambers. Centuries ago, this room had been offered to Legolas as a bedroom, since Elrond’s brood considered Legolas a part of the family, but the Silvan had kindly denied, knowing what it meant to Elrond’s family to retain Celebrian's memory there. It was here that he hoped to get Legolas out of Kalin’s hearing.

He thought to beg the Elf, but the human’s irritation was growing. It was becoming increasingly harder to blame this malady on the scar alone and he longed to assuage himself that his lover had some reason, even if it were a fey one, for believing that Aragorn would attempt to kill the King. If Legolas believed – without the venomous suasion of the scar – that Estel would ever attack him with such ferocity as had his true attacker, then the human could only conclude that he did not know his lover as well as he had thought.

Straightening his shoulders and looking very much as if he were bracing himself against a strong wind, the laegel agreed, "For a few moments. Wait outside the door," the Prince told his sentry, ordering Kalin to remain outside just as Aragorn had hoped he would. Kalin might not know of the portico, and with any luck, would not be able to hear their conversation or see their actions once Estel got Legolas out the door, so long as Kalin stayed in the hallway in belief that they were inside the sitting room.

“No,” the sentry denied his Prince. Aragorn had never heard nor seen Kalin refuse Legolas anything, much less with such vehemence. If Legolas had asked Kalin to shave his head for the good of Eryn Galen, the sentry would have done it without asking why it would help. When the laegel did not argue, but simply stood there, leaning against the wall and expecting his sentry’s obedience, Kalin astounded the Ranger again with the fury with which he told his Prince, “No, Legolas. I cannot protect you if you willingly put yourself in harm’s way.”

“The door will be open,” the Prince assured, placing a hand on his sentry’s arm, though this time he did it to reassure his fellow Silvan. “I will call for you if I have need. I have to speak to him.”

And then, something passed between the two Wood-Elves that the Ranger didn’t catch, some perspicacious exchange made by a mere tilt of the Prince’s bruised head that caused Kalin to close his eyes and nod his own head in unhappy agreement. Whatever private understanding the two shared, it worked to Aragorn’s advantage, for the sentry agreed with a warning that was no bluff, “I will be right here, Estel, and if the Prince as much as coughs, without second thought I will put you down like a rabid dog.”

Buoyed by this opportunity, which he had yearned for but had not expected to realize, Aragorn nodded that he understood. He opened the door wider for his lover to go through, noting the unkempt appearance of the normally immaculate Wood-Elf. The Prince's blond tresses, usually plaited and symbolic of his status as a Mirkwood warrior, were tangled and dull and hanging loose around his face, as if the Prince had not bothered to brush his hair after bathing. Having sat outside the King's room all day, Legolas knew that the Elf had probably not had any food, as none had been brought by Faidnil or one of the other Silvan servants to the King’s chambers. His fair brow was creased with apprehension; the dusky cheeks underneath his bruise-ringed eyes were beginning to hollow from the effect of his wounded body and maltreated faer. His lover had not missed enough meals for the Ranger to worry over whether Legolas was malnourished, but the harrowing appearance of the Elf’s mottled and thinned skin made him look starved regardless.

After Legolas walked through, Aragorn pushed the door not quite into its jamb, even as Kalin was putting his hand out to keep the door from being shut. He tilted his head in acknowledgment – the sentry remembered when last Aragorn had shut himself in with the Prince, and although in the end it had aided Legolas, it had also nearly cost the Prince his life. Kalin was not about to let Estel try such a stunt again.

“I promise you I mean him no harm,” he told Kalin through the gap in the nearly shut door, but in return, all Estel received was a glower that guaranteed violence if the sentry was given the slightest cause to doubt the human’s pledge.

When he turned back to look for his lover, he saw the Prince at the table in the center of the room, where he was giving the unfinished tapestry thereon a cursory glance and avoiding the Ranger's regard. With his hands on the long maple slab of the tabletop to hold himself up from falling, the laegel appeared that he would barely be able to stand for much longer.

 _Please let this work,_ he pled to Ilúvatar. _Please let him come back to us._

Although he felt ashamed to be using his lover's unfounded fear, the Ranger strode directly across the room to the Prince and placed his hands on the Elf’s forearms, mindful of the chafed, bandaged flesh under his tunic’s sleeves. Although Legolas startled and looked as if he might call out to Kalin, he did not, which gave Estel the chance to order, “Come out to the garden with me.” Keeping his voice low, he demanded again more forcefully, his ignominy mounting as the proud and strong Prince seemed to recoil at his words, “Do not refuse me. Come outside so that I can speak to you alone.”

When Legolas looked to the door, Estel felt certain that the Prince would shout for Kalin and his chance would be wasted, but to his relief, the laegel nodded his head in submission. He let the Wood-Elf walk before him, watching Legolas’ every step in case his lover lost his footing, for the Elf shambled evermore so as he walked, the pain of his bruises and likely the agony of the wakeful scar causing him to move with caution. Once out the door, he took the Prince by the arm and pulled him down the steps, off the portico, and into the garden proper, where the sun was setting on yet another day that the Ranger had spent without the gift of his lover’s presence. Legolas did not struggle against being led farther from his protective sentry, but he did tug his arm away from Estel the moment that the human stopped.

In the fading sunlight, the green foliage of the trees, shrubs, and the brilliant flowers of the garden were resplendent with the feverish colors of summer. A small fountain cackled its supply of water down from the spout of a pitcher that a nameless stone she-Elf held aloft. This side of the house faced the rock wall of the mountain in which it sat, and although there was plenty of space between the curved outside of the house and the face of the mountain, in this private, half circle of a pleasance there was no other way out save through the house. Legolas was trapped with Estel unless he made a run for one of the doors that led here. Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, and Elrond’s outer doors would not be locked, but in his current state, Legolas could never have hoped to reach any of them before the human caught him. He watched the Elf for a moment, having not thought of what to say to Legolas once he had him alone, as he had not thought he would actually get the chance to speak to his lover. Whatever occurred, it would have to be quickly done, for the Elf would not be able to stand out here for long before his leg gave way. He thought to lead the Wood-Elf to one of the benches farther in the garden, but did not want to alarm the Elf by taking him too far away from his sentry, while the chairs on the portico were too close to the house, and thus increased the chance that Estel would be overheard or stopped before he could complete his task.

Despite Aragorn’s hesitation to speak, it seemed that the Prince had something to say, for he shifted all his weight to his unmarred leg with a grimace and then asked somberly, “What is it that you want, Estel?”

It was a good question. What the human wanted was to hold his Elven lover, to remove the presence of the scar, if he could, and to do whatever the Prince required so long as Legolas would forget his accusation and misgivings and give back the trust he had taken away. And so without answering the laegel’s question, Estel went to his lover. Legolas took an ungainly, smaller step back for every long stride that the human made forward, until the Elf receded into a dogwood in full bloom, the branches seeming to miss his flesh so that he fit in perfectly with the small tree. It was hardly cover, though. Easily, the Ranger plucked the strangely pliable Elf from where he had placed himself. If the injured Wood-Elf had tried to fight against Estel or had called for Kalin, the Ranger would not have been shocked. What surprised him was that he did not, but allowed himself to be handled in this manner, despite his believing in the human’s guilt. Enfolding Legolas in his embrace, the human held as tight as he dared, not wanting to aggravate the Elf’s injuries but needing to feel the laegel, to comfort himself as much as Legolas.

"Why do you run from me?" he asked the Silvan, holding Legolas to him and hoping to rebuke with his touch whatever foul verdict the judgmental scar had rendered on the Prince. Glancing towards the door to the sitting room, where beyond Kalin waited, likely with his sword in hand to slay the Ranger, Estel counted it his good fortune that Kalin was not watching this; else, he would have already come to Legolas’ aid just for the Ranger having touched his Prince.

Beneath his arms, the quiescent Elf trembled, quaking violently with the sorrow of Estel’s alleged betrayal. The Wood-Elf was an accomplished warrior. He had killed more Orcs and spider than most Elves and men had ever seen. Legolas had endured the hardships of living in a land forsaken by all except those who steadfastly dwelled there, had lived under the hateful thumb of his father, had lost family and friends, and recently, had survived horrors from which most would have gladly died. But now, in Estel’s arms, where the human had hoped that Legolas would always feel safe and loved, the Wood-Elf trembled like a leaf caught in a storm’s gust. He sighed into the side of the Elf’s neck. The laegel did not return his fervent embrace, but eventually, after the human did not let up or let go, the unyielding Elf began to ease into the Ranger’s arms. And then, too wounded to stand so rigidly and likely needing the support, the Prince leant against his lover’s hard and lean form, laying his head upon the Ranger’s shoulder in defeat as he whispered, "I could almost forget.”

"What?" he whispered back, slowly loosening his hold of the Elf, as the Prince was relaxing against him. _Perhaps this is working,_ he hoped. _Perhaps it is not too late to bring him back to me._ Thinking that the insidious voice of the mar, the corporeal manifestation of the laegel’s grief, was silencing with his touch as it had done since its inception, Estel exhaled with relief. “What can you almost forget, my love?”

"That you have betrayed me.”

It broke him to hear the Prince so adamant in his belief that Estel was the cause of his misery. After all that he had done for the Elf, after all that they had shared through the human’s life and especially in the past few months, Aragorn could not fathom why it would even cross Legolas’ mind to blame him for what had transpired.

“I do not understand why you even consider this to be true, Greenleaf.” He held the Elf out by his shoulders, keeping the laegel in his grasp but placing him far enough away that he could look at the Prince’s face when the Elf answered the questions put to him. “What has turned you against me? Why do you think I am the one who poisoned your father?”

Legolas shook his head in confusion. “Because you told me this.” Taking in a deep breath, the Elf stepped backwards out of the flabbergasted human’s hands, moving toward the doorway that would lead him to his sentry and safety. “Because you told me that you wanted my father to pay for what he did to you, and when I accused you, you turned against me, as well.”

“I said nothing of the sort, Greenleaf. And I would never hurt you.” The Ranger would have been enraged at the questioning of his love and care for the Prince, had Legolas seemed angry himself. No, the Wood-Elf did not question what he was telling the human and it had not infuriated Legolas – it had devastated him. He tried to reason with the laegel, saying, “Why did you suspect me to begin? I have never been cruel to you. I have never hit you or treated you unkindly, and I will never do so.”

The Wood-Elf only shrugged his shoulders. In taking another step back away from Estel, the Elf’s foot turned over a wayward clump of grass. It must have hurt him, for he grimaced and then grabbed at the cloth of his trousers above where myriad scars were engraved on his thigh. Seeing the Prince molest his already aggrieved leg prompted the Ranger to ask, “Does the scar tell you these things? Has it now convinced you that I am the cause of all this?” He longed to reach out and remove the laegel’s hand from his thigh, which was savagely clutching the muscled flesh there. “I know that it speaks to you again, Greenleaf. You cannot let it gain control over you.”

“Elrond told you, then?” His eyes growing wide, Legolas held his hands up to the Ranger to plead, “I do not know what else he told you, but I did not accuse you, nor tell him what you did, Estel. I denied you were the one who attacked me, but he knew I was lying.”

“Ada told me that. He said that you did not blame me outright, but that he perceived that you still believed I was the cause of this,” he tried to assure the Elf, although he had no clue as to why Legolas had suddenly become so frightened at knowing that Elrond had spoken with him about the laegel’s conversation.

“They will leave the valley, as soon as my father awakens,” the laegel promised, his hands still out in supplication, though when Estel took a step forward the Prince took yet another step back. “I give you my word. They will be gone, and I will stay here for you to do with as you will. Just let them leave.”

“I do not understand you, Greenleaf.” The Wood-Elf’s answers only served to puzzle the Ranger even more. As much as he desired to step forward and take the laegel in his arms again, he refrained. He wanted to hear what explanation that the Elf would give. Besides, the Ranger could have caught up to the Elf in a few strides but did not want the laegel to feel threatened. To see the proud Wood-Elf afraid consumed the human with rage for the true culprit. He asked his lover, “Does the scar tell you these things? Why do you think I wish for your people to leave the valley?”

Remembering what it had said must have caused it to speak again, or at least recommence its ache, for the Wood-Elf sought to quell his marred thigh by snatching it once more. “The scar did not tell me these things. You told me these things.” His feet now only a few more steps away from the stairs leading back onto the portico and thus into the house, the laegel admitted, “The scar had been quiet until last night.”

 _Until last night? Then it has truly not been the scar that has caused Greenleaf to turn away from us._ While he might have been pleased to know that the Elf’s grief had not created the distrust between the Wood-Elf and his second family, it was more consternating to realize that if not the scar, then some other influence had swayed Legolas into adhering to his certainty that the Ranger had caused the King’s condition and then beaten the Prince.

Wanting to know more, to cajole the Elf into talking of his attack last night so that he might glean some detail about the true assailant, Estel asked, “And what did it tell you last night?”

With his eyes closed and his head slanting down, his hand moved from his thigh to his chest, where Legolas rubbed at the center of his torso with the heel of one hand. He had done the same thing that morning when they had all surrounded him in his room, arguing over allowing Elrond to treat the Prince; later the human had learnt that it was the Elf’s grieving faer that had caused this pain, when Legolas’ growing sorrow had nearly overrun his desire to live. The Ranger would have to be careful – he did not value answers over the laegel’s life.

“What game is this? You have betrayed me. You tried to kill my father and would now kill me. Must you torture me beforehand?” Sticking his hand out to find something on which to hold, the Elf found only air, so when he stumbled again as his tender leg collapsed under him, he nearly fell. Only his proximity to the stairs and the balustrade thereon kept him from the ground.

“What did it tell you?” he repeated, physically aching to help the laegel stand, though he forced himself into remaining an observer to the Prince regaining his balance. He had argued against the scar’s logic before; he would gladly do it again if only he could convince Legolas to tell him what despicable coercion it used against the laegel. He had walked close enough to the Prince that Legolas was now backing up the stairs to flee him. Before the Elf could get to the door, the Ranger slid around him up the stairs in order to block the entrance to the house. Now between Legolas and his closest route of escape, he asked, “What did it say to make you think that I was the one who beat you?”

“Beat me?” the laegel whispered through swollen lips, shaking his bruised head, though with his blackened eyes he was nervously watching the door behind Estel, perhaps wondering if he should not call out with his hoarse voice for Kalin to come to his aid. “I would that it had only been a beating. I have endured those on countless occasions. No,” he continued, looking directly at Estel for only a brief moment ere he turned his battered face back to the portico’s floor under his cramping legs, “I needed no convincing from the scar to know that it was you. Only you would know how best to hurt me. What memories held the worst fear for me. What torments the merchants forced upon me. What words to say that would wound me the most.”

“Greenleaf,” he warned, his irritation growing, “what did it say to you? And what is it that you think that I said to you?”

He had no idea what the laegel was telling him. He had thought that if Legolas hadn’t seen his attacker, then he might have been persuaded to think it was Estel, but if his attacker had spoken to the Elf, had spoken _as Estel,_ then the Ranger did not know how to counter such belief. The anger with which he spoke, his tense muscles and quick movements toward the Prince must have menaced the Wood-Elf, for he finally disclosed to the human what he wanted to know.

“You said that you wished you could have joined Sven and Cort in the woods that day, that you wished that you could take me as they had. The scar said that I am a whore for your amusement, and after last night, I know it to be true. It was right all this time. You were only sating the lust that watching me be abused had aroused within you. Have you now had your fill?” the Elf asked without rancor, but with true, miserable curiosity. “Will you let my father leave the valley unharmed and let me die in peace, now that you have taken me as they did?”

The Ranger suddenly understood what the Prince was telling him. In the Last Homely House, where the Elf Prince had always come to when he had no other place to turn, where he had often hid from his father’s rage, where he had found peace with his second family, and where he had met and fallen in love with the Ranger and the Ranger with him – Legolas had been raped. Moreover, his lover thought it to be Estel who had done it.

_I don’t know how, but someone has tricked Legolas into believing this. This is not the scar. This is not a mistake or misunderstanding._

He stood there speechless. So stunned was the human that he could not even refute the allegation or answer the question put to him with the truth. Unlike Elrond, Estel did not have the fatherly ability to tell when Legolas was lying. However, he did know that the laegel would not lie to him, and especially not about something so disturbing. Legolas knew Estel had hurt him. He knew that Estel had tied him up, beaten him, and raped him. Why he knew these things was unclear, but that his Greenleaf did not doubt their veracity caused blinding and consuming rage to fill the human. Without thinking, he bounded forward to grab Legolas by his shoulders to keep the Prince from leaving him. Estel would have a name for who had hurt his lover, and then that person would be lucky to live the night. He would torture the fiend who had ravaged the laegel and force a confession out of him to clear his name, but more importantly, to exact justice on the Elf’s behalf. The Ranger had killed before to keep his lover from harm and anguish, and without qualm, he would do so all over again to ensure that the Prince would not live in fear that he might suffer from the same hands another time.

“Who?” Shaking the Prince slightly, to force him from the strange stupor he seemed lost in, Estel ranted, “You know that it was not me. Tell me who did it and I will cut him to pieces.” Still, the Elf did not speak, but now shivered harder at the proximity of the man whom he believed to have taken him against his will. “Who was it, Legolas? Who raped you?”

The Prince tried to pull free of the Ranger’s hands, and in doing so, staggered back with a distressed cry as his legs finally gave way under him. Falling to his knees with a jarring thud and nearly sliding down the steps behind him, the Elf remained kneeling on the stone tiles with the human looking down at him. Estel could see no mendacity in his lover’s face when Legolas answered, “You, Estel. You raped me.”

Intending to pick the Elf up, to continue to force the Prince into seeing that it was not the Adan who had attacked him, Estel quite forgot about Kalin. A hand caught him at the back of his tunic and before the human could try to jerk away from who held him, a dagger was placed at Estel’s throat.

“I swear to you,” he heard Kalin hiss, the sentry’s steady hand keeping the Ranger from cutting himself against the blade. The sentry held tight to the human’s hair with one hand while the other tapped the underside of Aragorn’s chin with the dagger he held. “I swear to you, human, do not tempt me, for I will gladly slit your throat.”

“Kalin, release him,” the Prince implored. His command alone should have been enough to cause the sentry to release the Ranger but Kalin did not remove his blade nor acknowledge the order he’d been given.

“Kalin –” the Ranger began in an attempt to appease the sentry and hopefully keep himself from dying this evening. Fortuitously for Aragorn, despite his rage, Kalin’s hand still held firm and he did not lose his temper to the point of acting rashly.

“Keep quiet, swine,” he was interrupted by Kalin, who shook Estel’s head by his hair, the blade laid flat against Aragorn’s throat as he told his Prince, “I heard you Legolas. I heard everything of which the two of you spoke. From the moment you walked out of the sitting room to the garden, I have listened from inside as you spoke out here. Why did you not tell me what he has done? Why did you not tell me he has defiled you?”

Unable to withstand the newly added shame of having his sentry aware of what had befallen him, the Prince clutched at the tunic above his heart with his head once more hung low. “Because you would have done what you are doing now.” Unable to stand on his own, the laegel was still on his knees on the ground, looking very much as if he were pleading with his sentry when he released his tunic, raised his humiliated visage to his sentry, and entreated with one hand out to his Silvan guard, “Let him go, Kalin, please.”

Again, the sentry surprised Aragorn with his continued disobedience to his Prince. Kalin’s grip on the Ranger’s hair only grew tighter when Legolas began to climb from the ground, using a potted plant beside him to try to pull himself into standing. “Why should I not slit his throat? Let us be done with him now. He does not deserve to live. Why should he still be breathing when you say he promises to torment you further?”

He did not dare to try to escape Kalin. The Wood-Elf’s body seemed to thrum behind him, his indignant wrath palpable in the calm way in which he had decided to kill Estel in revenge of the wrongs done to his Prince. Legolas, who had finally managed to rise from the stones of the patio, staggered towards them as Kalin reiterated, “I will not suffer him to live, my Prince. Tell me why I should not give him the same punishment that he doled out for Kane, for the other two merchants, when he has abused you the same way as they did?”

“Because my father may die if you do,” the Prince declared, putting his hand upon his sentry’s forearm that held the blade to the human’s neck. “Because Elrond will have your head, and I would not lose the only friend that I have left, the only person I can trust.” When Kalin’s arm relaxed at the Prince’s declaration of having only Kalin upon whom to rely, Legolas slid his fingers between the flesh of the human’s throat and the blade, which immediately caused the sentry to remove the dagger so that he would not cut his Prince by mishap, although he still held tight to Aragorn’s hair. The laegel fumbled back from them to lean against the balustrade and added with a wretched sigh, “And because I love Estel still and would not see him hurt.”

Using the hold he had on the human’s hair, Kalin shoved Aragorn away from him off the portico and down the steps with all the disgusted exasperation that he could muster. The Ranger used the momentum to roll farther away along the ground, just in case the sentry changed his mind and came after him. Unsteadily and with a grunt of pain, he rose to his feet the second he stopped tumbling and turned to the two Wood-Elves. Legolas and Kalin stood face to face, though the sentry soon sheathed his dagger and took hold of his shaken and ailing charge’s arm when it seemed that Legolas would fall from the exertion of standing on his sore leg.

Wiping the sleeve of his tunic across his throat, Estel was glad to see that no blood had been drawn by the sentry’s blade. _What is going on? What madness is this?_ he asked himself. His life had nearly been cut very short by the sentry. While he lauded Kalin’s willingness to commit coldblooded murder in retaliation for the ravishment of his Prince, he had chosen the wrong person upon whom to take out his vengeance, and Estel was only glad that despite Legolas being certain that Aragorn was the one to have despoilt him, the Prince still loved the human enough not to want to watch him die. The Ranger felt that he finally understood why the Elf had so far been accommodating and meek. When he had approached Legolas in his rooms, right after the Prince thought the human to have abused him, the Wood-Elf could have attacked him or killed him. And now, when he had all rights, by his own thinking, to kill Estel or let Estel be killed by Kalin, the Prince wanted the human to remain safe. It seemed in part because the Prince feared for his father’s safety should the Ranger die, but also, Legolas said that he did not want Estel hurt, that he loved him still. For the human, his dwindling patience was renewed at this admission by the Prince and all his weariness and pessimism relieved at the realization. If Legolas still loved him, then there was hope. Either way, he would not give up on the Wood-Elf and now his vigor was improved. The absolute fury he felt facilitated this rejuvenation, as well. He would see the Elf avenged if it took him the rest of his life – he could only pray that Legolas lived long enough to see it done.

“Greenleaf,” he called out when it seemed that the two Wood-Elves would enter the house without another word to the Ranger. He was pushing his luck, he knew, for even as Legolas tried to turn around to see Estel, Kalin was already trying to extricate his arm from his Prince’s to come after the human, this time for merely speaking to Legolas. He could not let his lover leave without telling the Elf, “Greenleaf, I love you. More than my life itself. If I thought it would ease your suffering or keep you from being harmed again, I would slit my own throat and save Kalin the trouble.”

The sentry did not make it out of his Prince’s grasp this time, and Legolas only replied, “Please, Estel. Just let my father awake and go home. After that, I do not care what you do to me.”

He could find no reply to such a doomed, if selfless statement. Kalin’s usually friendly face was as pale as the sliver of moon trying to make itself known in the darkening night sky above. The sentry still looked as if he would not hesitate to make good on his promise and put down the rabid dog of a human.

“I did not hurt you, Greenleaf,” he yelled to the Silvan as Kalin began to lead his Prince back into the house and away from him. He called out again, saying, “I will find who has done this, I promise you, my love.”

Watching through the door as the two Wood-Elves walked out of the sitting room and into the hall, with Kalin carrying most of the laegel’s weight by the arm that Legolas had slung over the sentry’s shoulder, the Ranger knew that his words had been heard but his message was ignored. He also knew that the sentry would not allow him near the Prince again. Given how certain Legolas was in his belief, it would be hard for his sentry not to believe him, so it was hard for the Ranger to blame Kalin for his steadfastness in defending his Prince.

 _Legolas was not lying. The scar or his grief would not cause him to fabricate such a conviction, would it?_ he questioned, ambling aimlessly through the private garden and to the door to Elladan’s room, which was the closest to where he was without his following the Wood-Elves through the sitting room. _He did not even tell anyone what has happened – not even Kalin. He is deteriorating. Ada certainly does not know that his assailant also forced himself upon Greenleaf, else he would never have left Legolas yesterday, despite what our Greenleaf wanted or the sentries threatened._ Bitter, hot tears burned behind his eyes. _Through what has he underwent, and who has done this while claiming to be me? If I had not spoken with him today, would any of us have ever learnt what has happened to him?_

Walking into his brother’s bedchamber, the Ranger went immediately to the washbasin, pulling it off the wooden stand and to the floor, where he then knelt over it in anticipation that he would be sick. Picturing someone under the guise of Estel, binding, battering, and raping Legolas, telling the Prince lies that somehow cut to the heart of the misgivings that the human had tried hard these past months to belie – they ran through his mind unbidden, causing his stomach to heave. He had eaten nothing that day and so had nothing to sick up, but still his belly churned at the unwelcome imaginings. Aragorn could not get beyond this – not only had the already grieving and barely recuperated Prince been assaulted once more, but also, he thought Estel to have done it. _It is no wonder that he nearly released his faer last night,_ the Ranger thought. With the twin not in his bedchambers and the sickness subsided, Estel sat upon Elladan’s bed with his head in his hands, not able to decide what to do.

One discrepancy that plagued him, a niggling thought that he could not escape, was how some other person had known the worst fear that Legolas held – that his human lover desired him only after watching his subjugation at the hands of the merchants in the woods. The only people to know of that fear, by Estel’s reckoning, were Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, perhaps Kalin, and of course, Legolas and Estel. Of that list of people, not a single one would ever harm the Prince, which left the Ranger wondering how someone else had gained such private information concerning Legolas’ recent woe to turn it against the laegel.

He did not want to confess to his father what the Prince had told him. He feared for Legolas, but he also feared what Elrond may do upon learning of these new accusations. Elrond would storm through the Prince’s door and remove the laegel forcibly, if he had to, just to tend the Wood-Elf whom he thought of as a son. The twins would be right beside their father. Not only would all of his sentries learn of the Prince’s violation, but soon all of Imladris. The humiliation would most definitely kill Legolas. And since Legolas blamed Estel, the Ranger would likely be one of the Silvan or perhaps even by a Noldo who could not bear to live in the same house as a human that had despoilt an Elf.

_If Thranduil does not wake soon, there will be bloodshed in the Last Homely House._


	31. Chapter 31

Even though Faidnil himself had prepared the Prince’s dinner from foods the servant had selected and tasted for toxicant, Kalin was not pacified and took it upon himself to taste the food, as well. After making his Prince wait for half an hour to ensure that it was safe, Kalin finally allowed Legolas to eat the now cold bread, greens, and broiled fish he’d been brought. If he had been at all hungry, or these other circumstances, Legolas would have been aggravated by his sentry’s stubborn overprotectiveness, but he did not hunger and he was too tired to argue with Kalin. When deemed safe, the Prince ate the food perfunctorily for Kalin’s benefit and not his own. He picked at the greens and rolled the soft inside of the bread into small bits that he then swallowed with huge gulps of water. The broiled fish was the only item he ate completely – for some reason, the fish reminded him of the river, of the water, of being clean and swimming freely away from this house, its inhabitants, and all the troubles located therein. While eating the fish, Legolas felt that much closer to the water and its eventuation into the sea.

 _I could sail,_ he contemplated in abstraction, imagining himself trying to build a boat that would take him across the sea. It had never before occurred to him to leave Middle Earth, to leave the Greenwood and his people, his father and second family. _When this is over. Maybe, if I live long enough, I can make it to the Grey Havens and sail._ It was a daydream and nothing more. He would not live long enough to make it to Valinor. In fact, the young Elf felt he would be lucky to live long enough to see his father safely away from Imladris.

During this time that the laegel tried to force some of the food down his gullet, the sentry began his pacing anew in front of Legolas’ dead fireplace. He would often stop to watch his Prince for a moment, ensuring that the younger Elf was eating, and then take to his pacing yet again. Despite his fretting for his Prince, Kalin was incensed. Legolas could see this in how his sentry’s hand stayed on the haft of the sword strapped to his side. Kalin wanted only a chance to use it. He wanted blood to be shed and indeed, he had almost spilled blood – Estel’s blood.

 _I would not have lasted but a moment after,_ the Prince thought of how close he had come to losing his human lover. _When Estel breathed his last, I would have endured only long enough to lie down beside him, and gladly so. They would be burying two bodies this evening._

The laegel’s appetite fled him at the remembrance of how he had almost watched his sentry murder his beloved Estel. No matter what the Ranger had done to him, Aragorn had not earned his hatred. The laegel had not lied to Kalin – he loved the human no less for Estel’s wrongs against him.

Putting his half-emptied plate on the nightstand, Legolas tried to pull the blanket of the bed down from under him without getting to his feet, as he was quite sure his tired limbs would fail him and he’d end up on the floor should he stand. Upon hearing the clatter as the Prince sat his plate on the table, Kalin stopped his constant marching to inspect how much of the meal that the laegel had consumed. Apparently, it was enough to pacify the sentry, for he nodded and took over the younger Elf’s task by hefting Legolas to his feet, allowing the Prince to lean on him for support, and then pulling the blanket down. As he had done that morning, the sentry helped Legolas to lie back on the mattress, hoisting his legs onto the bed so that the Prince would not have to strain the throbbing muscle of his thigh, and then spread the thin blanket over Legolas. Wordlessly, the sentry gave his charge a pinched smile and then went back to the fireplace.

_He will wear a groove in the stone floor with his feet._

Turning his nose into the pillows, the laegel noticed that the ripe scent of pipe-weed was now gone from his bedding and the fainter smell of his human lover faded, as well, as even the blankets had been replaced with fresh. While Legolas had been with his father, waiting for the King’s awakening, Faidnil had fretted over his Prince’s rooms this day, as he had yesterday, and had cleared and cleaned until the laegel’s room was as spotless as before. Even the blood on the carpets where he had laid his bleeding head when unable to rise due to the pain of his injuries was now scrubbed clean. As the linens were newly changed again, gone were the red stains upon the bedding from his chafed, bloodied wrists.

 _He must be bored without father to fuss over,_ the Wood-Elf thought with a fond smile for the longtime servant. _Or staying busy is the only way he can find to keep his mind distracted from worry._

He wished that he could do the same. Although he tried to rest, to forget for a while the surprise and confusion that had clearly not been a lie on Estel’s face, Legolas could find no respite from the recurring image of Aragorn’s shocked visage. When he had told Estel what the man had wanted to hear, that it was his hands that had wrought such wounds upon the Prince, the Ranger had been riled beyond reason. In the instant before Kalin had pulled the Ranger away from Legolas, the laegel had been certain such malice had been aimed at him, but now he was not so sure.

_None of this makes sense. How can Estel be so kind to me now after what he has done? When did he become apt at lying, anyway?_

Ceasing his pacing and his reticence with a sigh, Kalin came to stand before his Prince. He had not spoken much during the last couple of hours – he had only marched around the room in aggravation. Now, though, the peace would be broken, Legolas could tell. The Prince had been staring at the ceiling, obviously awake, and so seeing this, Kalin came to linger by the bed.

The sentry didn’t look contrite at all, but Legolas could tell that he meant his apology when he said, “I am sorry.” Taking a deep breath, Kalin then added, “My temper got the better of me. I know that you wanted me to remain outside, to hide that you had told me of his attacking you. I am sorry that I may have broken that promise.”

He smiled at Kalin in what he hoped was reassurance, but was unaware of how ghoulish his bruise dappled face looked when he did so, and could only wonder why the sentry was quick to turn away. With only a few candles lit around the room, the shadows created new depths to the hollows under the Wood-Elf’s cheekbones, made darker the contusions upon his forehead, and the chafing from the gag had formed a ghastly grin of reddened skin around his mouth, even when the Prince was not smiling.

He saw Kalin’s strange reaction to his gentle smile but did not know why the sentry seemed disturbed by it. He told Kalin, “I am only glad that you let him go.”

“I would that I had not,” the sentry told him; Kalin was not at all ashamed that he had almost killed the Ranger, and in fact, seemed chagrined that he had not. He crossed his arms over his chest for a moment before they slid down so that he could once more grip the pommel of his sword with one hand, while the other found the dagger belted to his waist on the opposite side. It was the same dagger that had almost tasted Estel’s blood. “And I do not know why you stopped me, my Prince. I would have paid the penance that Elrond exacted, just to ensure that Estel could be of no harm to you any longer. Why did you ask me to release him?” the muddled sentry asked.

As he had told his sentry earlier and as he had thought only moments ago, Legolas repeated, “Because I love him. Because if you had slit his throat, I would have laid down beside him to die.”

“I do not understand any of this, Legolas, it is insanity. How can you still love him after what he has done to you?” The moment that Kalin said this aloud, he realized how callous his words sounded, and apologized again, saying, “I am sorry, my Prince. I only meant…” the sentry trailed off in his regret, as he had meant exactly what he had said and both of them knew it. Kalin looked out the balcony doors to the night beyond. With renewed worry, Kalin stepped backwards, his eyes never leaving the starry sky visible through the open doors, until he sat down upon the couch nearby. “Do you think he will retaliate against our King? Or against you? For what I have done? Or that he will now know that you told me of his actions before I overheard them?”

The laegel tried to recall what the sentry had said to Aragorn and if any of it had intimated that Legolas had broken his part of the bargain. From where he laid in the bed, he could not see the out of doors, but he could smell the river, hear the crash of the waterfalls, and longed to be outside in it. Had he been able to walk more than a few steps at a time, Legolas would have insisted on going out to the woods. There was no place where he felt more at home than amidst the trees. Being that his sentry was now staring at him in expectance of an answer, the laegel turned his mind away from his desire to be gone from his room, and told Kalin, “I do not know if he will try to retaliate against our King, but I do not believe that you said anything that would make him think that I told you the truth of what happened prior to your overhearing it.”

Intentionally, he did not mention whether the Ranger would seek retaliation against him. The Wood-Elf Prince had already decided – if Estel had been pleased to torment him once, then he would offer himself up for torment again if required to appease the human’s anger. He would do whatever it took to keep his father and people safe.

Kalin was now wringing his hands as he stared outside. The Prince turned his attention upwards to gaze at the ceiling, rather than at his persistently frazzled sentry. _Estel seemed truly surprised. He did not look guilty at all,_ the Elf thought of how the Ranger had reacted upon hearing that Legolas had been defiled as well as beaten.He had known the Ranger since Estel was but a child, and never had the human been good at artifice. _It is as if he is not even aware of what he has done._

It did not make sense. None of it made sense to Legolas. He could think of no way for his human lover to have committed the awful acts he had forced upon the Wood-Elf but remember none of them; but likewise, Legolas could hardly remember much of what happened these past few days, either. _What if Estel does not know? What if he has been poisoned or is ill? Or perhaps I am mad. Perhaps all of this is just more of my grief-borne lunacy._ The Wood-Elf might believe this supposition had he heard a single vociferation from the hateful scar before the Ranger had already commenced his despoilment of him, but since it had been quiet up until Estel had forced himself upon the Wood-Elf, and the mars and bruises upon his person real, there had to be some culprit in his attack. He could not have imagined all of this.

Kalin’s brooding was interrupted and Legolas’ pondering halted when at the door they heard Galendil talking to someone. Though it took him a moment to place the quiet voice, he soon realized with dread, _Lord Glorfindel. Why has he come?_

Only a moment later, a knock at the door brought Kalin to his feet in a hurry. Even while Legolas had not been in his rooms that day, when he had been with his father, two of the King’s sentries had stood watch over his door to keep anyone from going within to lie in wait for the Prince to return. And now, having had their rest, Galendil and Oiolaire were once more on guard duty. But even these two of the Prince’s sentries were not granted admittance into Legolas’ chambers. So far, since that dawn when he had eschewed Elrond and the healer had given Kalin the instruction to remain always by Legolas’ side, no one but Kalin had come within the room. The sentry nearly ran to the door to find out who had come calling but also to keep out Galendil and Oiolaire. It was not that Legolas distrusted his sentries, but he did not want any more curious gawkers or fretting well-wishers. Kalin was enough.

Without moving from where he laid in the bed, Legolas listened as Galendil explained that Glorfindel had come to see the Prince. Without even asking Legolas, Kalin tried to deny Glorfindel entry, telling those outside that Legolas was resting. It was no lie, but Legolas held great admiration for the commander of the Imladrian warriors and did not want to disrespect him, and so called out to Kalin, “Let him in.”

Annoyingly, Kalin stepped back into the room and shut the door long enough to try to argue with his Prince over allowing Glorfindel entrance, but the laegel was curious to know why the esteemed commander had come and so forfended Kalin’s argument by repeating forcefully, “Do not keep him waiting outside. Let him in.”

Not pleased by this, Kalin nonetheless opened the door to allow their visitor inside the room. Glorfindel entered as stately and imposing as he ever looked, and though he nodded congenially at Kalin, the commander spoke only to Legolas in saying, “Good evening, Prince. I have come at Lord Elrond’s behest, although I am glad to see for myself that you are doing well.”

Without invitation, the commander crossed the room and seated himself on the couch, which faced the side of the bed on which the Prince laid. Legolas was quick to attempt to move, to sit up on the mattress out of the need not to appear as weak as he felt, but he fumbled in his efforts and only managed because Kalin came to him to aid him in shifting enough that he sat on the edge of the bed. Kalin then pulled the blanket over his lap to hide his bruised legs, knowing that his Prince wanted to hide the extent of harm done to him.

“Do not rise on my account,” Glorfindel said as he situated himself on the cushion of the couch, “stay where you are, if it pleases you. I know that you are injured.”

“I am fine,” he said, as he had said the past two months to any who would ask him if he were well. Much like his second family, the commander paid this answer no heed. “Why did Lord Elrond send you?” he asked, wanting Glorfindel to say his piece and be gone. While he had no mistrust of the commander, he also had no reason to believe that Glorfindel had come to aid him and not further the cause of Elrond and his sons.

Glorfindel gave the Prince a fleeting smile at the directness of Legolas’ inquiry. He looked around the room, seeming to take note of the placement of every item – the half-eaten plate of food on the nightstand, the clean bandaging sitting by the plate, the two buckets of water that Faidnil had brought in case it was needed and they could not find him to fetch more from the river at a moment’s notice, the spotlessness of his surroundings. With a sniff, the commander noted the smell of the camphor ointment that Faidnil had made from scratch and brought to Kalin to put on the Prince’s bruises, the smell of the soap that Faidnil had used in cleaning, and the recent bath that Legolas had taken that morning. His perceptive eyes then moved over Legolas, noting that the Prince’s hair was recently washed but unbraided and tangled, that the laegel had fresh bandaging on his wrists, and despite the sentry’s effort to throw the blanket over his Prince’s lower half to save his dignity, with a flicker of a frown Glorfindel had seen the myriad bruises covering Legolas’ legs from mid-thigh downward.

_It seems that Elrond has sent Glorfindel to spy on me, though whether it is to check on my welfare or plot against me, we will soon determine._

Lastly, the commander looked at Kalin, eyeing the discomfited sentry from head to toe with an assessing gaze that gave nothing away as to his intent. He soon asked, however, with no explanation for his question, “Do you trust your sentry, Legolas?”

“With my life,” the Prince replied at once.

But this was not enough for Glorfindel. The commander was pointedly ignoring the affronted sentry, who held his tongue but was ostensibly upset at the very suggestion that he was disloyal. Kalin came to stand beside where Legolas sat on the bed, his hand ever on the haft of the sword strapped to his waist. Unperturbed by Kalin’s irritation, Glorfindel pressed harder, asking, “And your secrets? Do you trust him with those?”

He had trusted Kalin with countless of his thoughts. Over the many years that Kalin had been one of his guards and then his head sentinel, he had not been as close to the sentry as he had grown over the last few months, though. But in these last few months, he had told his sentry details of what had occurred in Lake-town, in the forest, and in his father’s halls. He had spoken to Kalin of his father’s abuse, of his love for the Ranger, and of the many vile things that the scar had told him. Had he told Kalin every private thought, fear, and memory he held? No, he had not. But if there was another soul in Arda who he felt that he could trust with not just his life, but with his every secret, then yes, Kalin would be the person. At one time, he would have counted several others amongst his sentry – Elrond being foremost on the short list of people Legolas could trust completely, but his Minyatar and twin sons had forsaken him for the human. Indeed, only Elrond and Estel knew as much about his private suffering as did Kalin. The Ranger would have been first on the list except the Lord of Imladris knew so much about the laegel already and he had known him since an Elfling. Yet, even so, before the last few days, Legolas would not have placed anyone but Elrond above Estel amongst those to whom he would share his secrets. Now, he had only Kalin.

None of this took but a second to fly through Legolas’ mind. He did not need to ponder before he answered promptly, “Kalin is the only one whom I can trust.”

This seemed to appease Glorfindel, who nodded, saying, “Good. Then he can remain in the room while I ask you a few questions.”

Legolas could not help to be momentarily entertained by Kalin’s umbrage. The sentry had first seemed pleased to know that he held his Prince’s highest trust, but then was affronted more than he let on by Glorfindel’s words. Kalin would not be so grudging as to be rude to the commander, but Glorfindel had just intimated that the sentry was untrustworthy and now he had given the sentry permission to remain by his Prince’s side, when by Kalin’s thinking, it was Glorfindel who ought to be seeking permission to be near Legolas – not Kalin.

The laegel wasn’t sure what this inquiry was about, but since Elrond had apparently sent the Balrog-slayer, he could only assume that they wanted to know more about the attack upon him. When Glorfindel did not begin his questioning but only sat and stared emotionlessly at him, the younger Silvan urged, “What questions do you have, Lord Glorfindel?”

As though he were speaking to an Elfling, which by Glorfindel’s reasoning the Prince was few enough in years in comparison to be thought of as an Elfling, the commander warned Legolas, “I expect your answers to be complete and truthful, Prince Legolas. These are dire matters.”

Kalin opened his mouth as if to argue against the commander’s insinuation that his Prince would lie, but Legolas spoke before his sentry could, agreeing, “I will tell you truthfully what you want to know, unless I cannot tell you at all.”

“Yes,” the commander said, his eyes only upon Legolas, who felt Glorfindel’s bottomless gaze as if it were seeing through him and reading his soul like a scroll upon which his secrets were written. His Minyatar had the same incisive look, but Elrond’s kind face usually softened his intense perceptivity. “Elrond told me that you refuse to name your attacker because the one who attacked you threatened your King’s life. He also told me that you think Estel is your assailant, even though you will not name him outright.”

He had no reply to that. The Prince was beginning to regret telling Kalin to allow the commander within the room. Already his chest hurt; the ache of his human lover’s betrayal had been insistent since he had seen Estel again a couple of hours ago. To recall the events of last night and this morning just to pacify his Minyatar and Glorfindel’s interest seemed like a torment in itself. Legolas looked to Kalin, wondering if there was still a way to evade this interrogation, but Kalin was watching Glorfindel as though the commander might fly into a rage against his Prince, although Glorfindel had no cause to do so. It was merely Kalin’s heedfulness and his latent wrath for Estel that caused him to be so guarded around the Imladrian commander.

Unfazed by the reticent Prince, Glorfindel began his investigation, asking, “Last night, when you came here to eat with Estel and Elrond, you left, saying that you were going to sit with your father. You did not go to your father’s room, for Estel followed you only moments later and you were not in Thranduil’s chambers. In fact, you were gone for some time before you returned to this part of the house, which is when in the hallway you accused Estel of being the one responsible for your father’s condition. Where did you go, Legolas, instead of going to your father’s room?”

 _I do not know,_ he thought but did not say, as he stopped himself from giving that answer when realizing how foolish it would make him seem. The Wood-Elf drew his hands out from under the blanket that lay atop them and studied the bandaging wrapped around his wrists. _Where did I go?_ he asked himself. For several long moments, the laegel tried to recall his whereabouts. He had not realized that he did not know where he had been – at least, not until now that he’d been asked.

“Legolas?” When the Prince still did not answer, the commander prompted, “Where were you during that time?”

The ache in his head seemed to swell as he tried to recall his whereabouts during the time between those events. A singularly piercing shaft of pain, much like a dagger being thrust into his temple, caused the Wood-Elf Prince to close his eyes and press the heel of his palm against the side of his head. He could not remember, and the longer he tried, the more it would seem to Glorfindel that the laegel was daft or concocting some falsehood. Being that he had promised not to lie, Legolas admitted, “I am not certain where I went. I have no memory of it. I only remember walking into the hallway and upon seeing Estel, knowing that he had done this.”

He expected Glorfindel to call him a liar, to argue against his claiming not to remember, but the commander only continued on, commenting, “In the hour between when you sat in here with Elrond and Estel and then accused him of being the cause of your King’s slumber, you do not know where you were. And yet, in that hour, you had cause to decide that Estel was the perpetrator of Thranduil’s condition. But I suppose you have no clue as to what happened that made you decide that Estel was guilty of this.”

He offered, saying as he had said many times since the morning after the feast, “I do not recall.” The Wood-Elf fiddled with the bandaging on his wrist as he thought. _I have no recollection of what made me realize that Estel had done this, either._ Clasping his hands together so that he would not fidget, the Prince rationalized, “But I also do not recall the night of the feast, when my father was poisoned. Perhaps what was done to me that night was done to me last night, as well, causing me to forget.”

He could tell that he had answered just as Glorfindel thought he might or had brought up some point that the commander had been intent on making himself. The commander used Legolas’ answer to turn his logic against him. “If Estel poisoned your King the night of the feast, during this time that you do not recall, then you think he has caused you to forget parts of last night, as well?” The commander moved forward on the couch so that he barely sat on the cushion at all. Beside the laegel, Kalin tensed when Glorfindel shifted, as if the Balrog-slayer’s actions were threatening, but it was the commander’s words that intimidated Legolas, for he concluded to the Prince, “Estel could not have caused you to forget where you were between meeting Elrond here in your room and accusing Estel in the hallway. Estel was in your father’s rooms with your kith and then with Kalin speaking of their worry for you until they saw you in the hallway. Someone or something else caused this lapse of memory.”

The Prince startled when suddenly Kalin sat on the bed beside him. The sentry agreed, “That is true, my Prince. I spoke with Estel for an hour or so. I walked with him from your father’s rooms to the alcove near to Elrond’s door, where we sat until you came through the hall.”

Glorfindel sat back and nodded sagely to himself, again giving the Prince the impression that this conversation was proceeding exactly as the commander had known it would. The elder Elf gave Legolas no chance to counter this revelation or even ponder what significance it held, for he went on, “When the twins came to your rooms to bring you news of the tonic they had created, they found that you were ill. Elladan and Elrohir said that you sweated, that you claimed you had drunk too much wine with dinner and ate too little food. But Elrond and Estel both say that you ate nothing of the meal brought to your room and the servant brought no wine.”

 _Did I tell them that?_ he wondered. He rubbed at his forehead. For some reason unbeknownst to him, trying to sort through the last few days – most of which, he found, he could barely recall or could remember as if through a haze – was a painful task. _He is right, though. I do not think I ate or drank anything for dinner, much less any wine._

Without waiting for the answers that he had made Legolas promise would be complete and truthful, Glorfindel sounded more as if he were making a point rather than truly seeking information. “Last night you left your rooms, despite that you were under watch by your sentries so that they could keep you safe. You said that you went for a walk. Is that the truth?” the commander asked.

“I don’t believe so,” he admitted, which caused Kalin to turn to face him in surprise, since the sentry had not heard this part of the laegel’s tale and had not been able to coax it out of Legolas that morning. “Or at least, I don’t believe that I left to go for a walk. If I went to the woods, I do not recall it. I honestly do not recall leaving my room, only coming back to it.” He swept his hair back from his face with both hands and then used his fingers to press against the juncture where his skull and neck met. So fiercely was his head now aching that the Silvan’s vision was dimming.

The commander was not being accusatory, he was not being unkind, but the laegel still felt the fool for having no clear answers. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault that he could not remember, but it did not make him feel better to know it. Glorfindel was watching every movement that the Prince made, every time he rubbed at his head or chest, and noting every word that he said – all of which he would indubitably take back to Elrond. The commander asked, “Then where were you assaulted, Legolas? Do you remember this? Since you recall that it was Estel – as you intimate even if you refuse to admit that you believe it to be him – then you must have some memory of where it occurred?”

Here, at least, the laegel could answer. He knew exactly where Estel had assaulted him. He had never been in that particular room before, but he would not forget it any time soon, he felt. The Prince hesitated before answering, wondering if he was endangering his King by giving away this information, but eventually said, “I recall every moment of it, including where it occurred.”

He did not mention Estel’s name. Even now, although all the Wood-Elves suspected the human regardless of what the Prince did to deter them and all the Noldor knew that he believed it to be Estel despite that they thought him a liar, he would try to keep Estel’s secret. In this information, though, he found that there was little over which to worry that might incriminate the Ranger, and so could inform the commander, “There is a room under the stairs – the back stairs, close to the library and the garden – on the third floor of the house. A small room. With no furniture and no windows. It was there that I was attacked.”

Glorfindel’s insouciant demeanor faltered, for perhaps he had not expected Legolas to have any real information for him, and especially not something as tangible as an exact location. Uncrossing his legs, the commander leant forward, his elbows on his knees and his rear barely touching the cushion, his golden hair shifting in the light of the candles such that it glinted as if it were the cold glimmer of a steel blade flashing through the air. His temporary perturbation passed, the commander asked, “Why were you in a storage room?”

He realized that he had no memory of going to that room. He dug his fingers into the flesh above his temples again. From what Mithfindl had instructed him to remember, though, he knew that the Ranger had been coming to speak with him, and he told the commander so, saying, “Estel asked me to meet him there so that we could speak in private.”

This was information that he had told no one, and truly, he had not even thought of why he had gone to the storage room. The commander was not the only one paying rapt attention to his answers, for Kalin had moved in his seat beside him so that he could face his Prince during his explanation. The sentry had his own unanswered questions and fretful curiosity that needed satisfying.

Legolas closed his eyes as penetrating agony stabbed through them. To ease the ache, he took to rubbing his eyes instead of his head before returning his attention back to Glorfindel, who now asked, “When did Estel ask you to meet him there? From the time that you accused him until you went to the storage room, you had no contact with Estel except in your father’s rooms, where there were witnesses, none of whom heard him request you to meet him. And why would you go there, away from the protection of your sentries, instead of meeting here where it was safe?” Unable to sit any longer, it seemed, Glorfindel stood, though he came no closer to the Prince. “Legolas, why meet Estel at all if you felt that he was the one responsible for your King’s illness? Why place yourself in the same danger?”

Having no memory of this, either, the laegel began to feel that Glorfindel’s questions were valid ones that he should have thought of himself. The certainty he had felt about the Ranger’s guilt had precluded his questioning it. _If I could answer any of these queries, I could clear up their confusion and disbelief. But what would be the purpose? Estel has done this and remembering would only expose his guilt and thereby accuse him, as I swore upon my King’s life not to do._

“What is the point of these questions, my Lord?” Kalin asked. The sentry could see how upset his Prince was becoming and as much as he admired the valiant Balrog-slayer, he would not allow Glorfindel to revisit Legolas’ woes just to pacify his own inquisitiveness.

He wanted to know the point of Glorfindel’s enquiry, as well, and so answered what he knew ere Kalin could end their conversation with an argument, “I do not know why I went to meet Estel in the storage room. I do not even know how I came to be there or why I would meet him there instead of here.”

The more he tried to recall, the harder he thought, the worse the ache in his head grew. It wasn’t until his devoted sentry reached for the bandaging on the nightstand and knelt down before him with a swatch of the linen cloth that he noticed that his nose had begun to bleed. He felt like an Elfling getting his face washed and a fool for being so childish in front of Glorfindel, but let Kalin do this for him just to keep the concerned sentry occupied – helping his Prince seemed to ease Kalin’s aggravation.

It did not stop him from giving the commander what details he knew, his voice now muffled under the linen his sentry dotingly swabbed under his nose and around his mouth. Without realizing that in his pained confusion he had forsaken his effort to keep from accusing the Ranger directly, Legolas replied, “I only remember realizing that my hands were tied and that I was blindfolded. And then Estel attacked me. I did not even know where I was until I left to return here.”

“He was struck on the head,” the sentry argued on Legolas’ behalf, reaching for another swatch of linen to hand to his Prince to press to his nose if it began to seep again. “Estel could have rendered him unconscious and taken him to this storage room.”

“Perhaps, except that your Prince just said that he went to the storage room to meet Estel, even if he cannot recall when or why or even how this would be so. Besides, Estel could not have taken you there by force, Legolas,” the commander countered to the Prince, “for it would have been noticed if he carried you unconscious through the house. Indeed, the sentries in the main hall have said that you walked alone through the halls, before dawn. Although none knew of your destination, they did see you, although none saw you as you returned.”

 _That is because I crept through the gardens like a thief in the night to avoid anyone knowing of my shame._ The Prince daubed at his nose, which dripped red incessantly.

“But, Estel was supposed to be in his own rooms, though we found him in Legolas’ rooms. He could have easily gone to this storage room before following Legolas back here. If he could climb up the vine outside his window to come here, he could have easily climbed it to access other parts of the house once in Elrond’s study,” the sentry countered. Kalin had returned to siting on the bed, the used linen bandaging, soaked in his Prince’s blood, was squashed in his fist. The sentry’s ire was growing at his perception of the commander questioning Legolas’ truthfulness, even though Kalin himself had voiced his own doubts about Estel’s guilt before. The Wood-Elf was perturbed to realize that he and Kalin no longer spoke vaguely about whether Estel was the culprit, which he noticed when Kalin said bluntly to Glorfindel, “My Prince says that the human attacked him. I do not understand why these details are important, unless you claim that Legolas is lying.”

Legolas felt a growing unease at the breaking of his promise to the Ranger to refrain from accusing him and he worried for his father’s welfare because of it. _I suppose Estel couldn’t have expected it to remain secret after Kalin overheard me speaking to Estel about what he has done to me. I can only pray that Estel doesn’t seek retribution for it._

The sentry’s mounting irascibility was ignored by the commander. Glorfindel then asked a question that Kalin had asked that morning and received no answer for, as Legolas had begged leave of their conversation. “Even with your hands bound, you could still have pummeled Estel into unconsciousness with your feet or fled. It would have been nearly impossible for a human to contain you just by bound hands. And Estel has no bruises upon him. You did not fight back while he attacked you? You did not call out for help? You let him beat you?”

One of the reasons he had not fought Estel was because of the love he felt for the human. Even bound and beaten, Legolas had not wished to harm his lover in any way. He had also trusted the Ranger not to harm him. This trust had kept him from trying to flee until it had been too late – by the time he had realized what Aragorn meant to do to him, the scar had awoken and all his ambition to flee, to survive, had fled with its arrival.

The commander did not know that Estel had raped the Prince. Without this knowledge, his questions were asked innocently enough, but for the laegel, Glorfindel was essentially asking him why he allowed himself to be despoilt. A deleterious shiver ran from the Wood-Elf’s calves, along his shanks, up his thighs and lower back, and then to his shoulders. _He speaks as if I desired this,_ the laegel worried. Unable to face the commander any longer, his shame growing in tandem with his confusion, Legolas dropped his head to inspect his wrists once more, and watched in disinterest as drops of blood fell from his nose and onto the once clean blanket covering his lap.

 _He saw you in the woods with Mithfindl months ago. He knows how fey and perverted you are,_ the mar told him. _He only wonders if you met Estel to be beaten because you wished to be abused. If he knew Estel defiled you, he would say that you desired it, also._

Forcing himself to look at the commander, he saw that Glorfindel was watching him with no visible emotion whatsoever. The Balrog-slayer had the keen ability to give away no hint of what he thought. Another shudder swept over the laegel; this time, it did not cease, but caused the Prince to shiver uncontrollably and it was only by biting his tongue that he kept his teeth from chattering. He turned his attention back to the increasing spatter of blood on the blanket, the linen he held in hand to staunch the flow forgotten. The agony of his pounding head, throbbing thigh, and aching chest fought for supremacy to see which would be the one to kill him, it seemed to the Prince.

Unknowingly, the Wood-Elf Prince had tilted his head as if to hear the voice that spoke to him, that spoke within him, which was how Kalin came to realize that his Prince was listening to the maleficent vociferation once again. His fellow Wood-Elf knew that extent of his charge’s abuse and thus could tell that Glorfindel’s remarks were having an unintended effect on the Prince, even if he wasn’t sure why. “Legolas?” his sentry urged.

_Will you let him see how pathetic you are? How frail? Will you tell him how Estel laughed at you? How you were dumb enough to believe that Estel would not hurt you, even when –_

A hand on his arm – Kalin’s hand – stopped the fell voice at once. His sentry felt by this hand that his Prince was trembling. His irritation now overwhelming his esteem for the Imladrian commander, Kalin stood from the bed and then moved in front of Legolas, having forgotten that he meant to comfort Legolas and instead wishing to reprimand the commander. “My Prince has answered enough questions, Lord Glorfindel. Can you not see that he grieves? I will not let you rehash the events that have caused his misery just to pacify your or Elrond’s curiosity.”

“He has answered too few of my questions and I doubt any of them factually,” Glorfindel countered. The Balrog-slayer was not intimidated by Kalin in the least but he was respectful of Kalin’s protection of his Prince. He was not yet swayed into ending his interrogation, though, and told the sentry in pacification, “Your Prince is my utmost concern right now, Kalin. My aim is to find out who is responsible. Legolas remembers too little. We fear that this is done on purpose by the culprit, while convincing the Prince by the same means that Estel is the one responsible.”

He could see neither his sentry nor the commander from where they stood before him, but Legolas did not care. As he could not see their faces, they would not see his actions, and the Wood-Elf took the opportunity to grab his thigh with both hands. With all his might, he squeezed the healing muscles there, tears coming to his eyes as the pain increased tenfold. He could not endure with it spouting invectives at him.

The sentry’s ire had subsided with the commander’s declaration, although he asked, “And how do we know that you do not merely cast doubt on Estel’s guilt to protect him?”

Mithfindl’s warnings and commands, while using the periapt to ensure Legolas’ compliance, had not extended to the commander of Imladris. While the Prince did not count Glorfindel amongst his second family, he knew the elder Elf to be unquestionable in morality and justice. The Balrog-slayer was the epitome of righteousness. Whereas Elrond was known to be kind to those in his household and under his care, even when they had committed some wrong, Glorfindel was known to be ruthless to the warriors under his command, especially if they strayed. Therefore, Glorfindel’s avowal was not given lightly when he said, “Trust me, Kalin. If somehow Estel is truly guilty of the attack on your Prince, then you need not fear that he would go unpunished, whether by Elrond, or by your own people, should that be Elrond’s decision. You have my word. I will see that it is so.”

“But you do not believe it is Estel?” the sentry asked. They spoke as if they had forgotten the Prince was in the room. While not done with rancor, Legolas felt that they ignored him because they believed him to be irrational, untrustworthy. He again felt like a child, forgotten of while the adults spoke of important matters.

Without hesitation, Glorfindel responded, saying, “No, Kalin. I do not. Estel is incapable of such cruelty to Legolas. You were in the same room as was I when he attacked the merchant from Lake-town in vengeance for harming the Prince. I have never seen anyone, man or Elf, with such reckless disregard for his own life in the pursuit of reprisal on another’s behalf. How can you doubt him, after all that he has done for your Prince over the last several months?”

For some time, the commander and sentry stood facing the other without speaking, until Kalin finally said, “That night that Estel killed the merchant – I thought that Legolas could not have picked a better mate, for the Ranger held Legolas’ interests far above his own – Estel was willing to protect Legolas even knowing that Thranduil might kill him for killing the merchant.” All tension left Kalin as he heaved a sigh to admit to Glorfindel, “I have found it hard to believe that Estel would attack my Prince.”

Seemingly overlooked, the Prince’s faith in his sentry’s loyalty evaporated at Kalin’s admission to Glorfindel. _Now even Kalin has turned against me. Now even Kalin believes me a lunatic._ The consuming grief that incited a rending, wrenching agony in his chest finally won out over his other aches and pains. Seizing the nightshirt over his heart, the laegel forcibly pushed against his chest, willing his heart to continue its hateful beating. They turned to him, as they could feel as he nearly gave his faer to Námo. Legolas ignored his spectators as they watched him in trepidation that their careless conversation had hastened the young Elf’s demise.

 _They believe you are a liar. You are insane. You are too grief-stricken to be rational. This whole mess is of your making._ It was tempting to kill the opinion of the scar by killing himself. He could easily let his heart quit its toil. It would be a sweet relief to end his wretched life. _Ada,_ he promised himself. _I have only to get Ada out of Imladris and then this can be over._

Realizing how his Prince had taken his words and how close they had come to losing the laegel in that moment, Kalin knelt swiftly before Legolas with his hand now upon the younger Elf’s shoulder. “Legolas, I did not mean –”

“I do not care,” he interrupted harshly. With the last of his failing volition, the frail laegel tried to indurate his faer against the sorrow that tried to break him. Pulling his shoulders up to cast off the sentry’s hand, he told them, “I will bear this alone, since no one believes me. I do not care,” he reiterated, throwing aside the blanket that covered him as he struggled to stand. Kalin tried to aid his Prince but his hands were pushed away and Legolas lurched to his feet of his own accord. Clad only in a nightshirt, he walked away from them with as much dignity as he could gather and headed towards the balcony doors to be nearer the comforting trees and natural world beyond, but stopped there to lean against the doorway, the breeze from outside blowing his thin nightshirt around his exposed, bruised legs. Still dripping blood from his nose, the front of the Prince’s shirt was now littered with red. “When my father awakens and leaves the valley, none of this will matter. My people will be safe. You can argue over Estel’s guilt and doubt my sanity all you desire then. I will be dead soon enough and it will no longer be my concern if any of you believe me or not.”

“I will not let it come to that. I promise you, Prince,” the commander was quick to pledge. He took an uncertain step towards Legolas, but came no farther. “Do not despair. Whoever it is that has done this, they will be found.”

Because the golden warrior did not give his word lightly, Legolas should have found comfort in the assurance. If the commander had known of the vicious torment that Legolas had endured, he might not have asked the questions he had asked or so casually implored the Prince not to despair. But even without that knowledge, Glorfindel looked discomfited, as if aware that there was something greater at hand than a simple, albeit vicious beating. That the staid commander appeared anything but composed was an unusual sight. It had been Glorfindel’s questions that had caused the laegel’s grief to resurface, and now that he had obtained what information Elrond desired, the commander sought to leave the grieving Wood-Elf. Tender care and healing were Elrond’s craft, not Glorfindel’s trade.

However, Glorfindel stopped his walk to the door long enough to assure the laegel, “Whether you trust them or not, Elrond, Estel, Elrohir, and Elladan are all doing what they can to aid you, and would aid you further if you but allowed it. I will help them, and you, however I can. You are not alone, Prince Legolas.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

Shamefaced and worried, Kalin waited only until Glorfindel shut the door before he walked to where Legolas stood at the balcony. “My Prince,” he tried again to apologize, but the laegel wanted no more of it.

“Leave, Kalin,” he told his sentry before he could continue. Legolas could understand why his fellow Wood-Elf did not believe him, even if he could not abide it. Kalin had nearly killed Estel in his faith that Legolas was correct about who had abused him, but it had taken only a few questions and the well-earned reputation of Glorfindel to question that faith and turn the sentry against his Prince. If Legolas hadn’t known better, he might have thought that it had been Glorfindel’s intent all along, but he imagined that Glorfindel had intended to convince Legolas of Estel’s innocence, not merely Kalin. Having Kalin around him when the sentry distrusted his word was more than Legolas could withstand, so he told the sentry, “Leave. And tell the others to cease guarding the door.”

Before he had even finished ordering the sentry to be gone, Kalin was shaking his head in disagreement, although he spoke gently, as if trying to persuade an Elfling why she shouldn’t eat all the sweets, telling Legolas, “No. I am not leaving you alone. And Galendil and Oiolaire are in the hall for your protection.”

His sentry’s continued disobedience only fomented the laegel’s desire for him to quit his presence. At one point in time, Kalin would never have dared to disagree with his liege, but now, he did so freely. _I hold no authority over him any longer,_ Legolas knew, _because he isn’t compelled to take orders from a crazed, weakling of a Prince._

His temper, his frustration at his own feebleness and at the sentry talking to him like Legolas was a child, finally erupted, causing the laegel to scream, “Be gone! Get out!”

Without knocking and within seconds of Legolas’ shout, Galendil threw the door open to see why his Prince was screaming, perhaps believing that his fellow Wood-Elves were being attacked, only to find that Kalin and Legolas were still alone in the room together. Although he could barely stand, the Prince walked forward to Kalin, demanding of him again, “Go, Kalin. I do not want your protection or your presence any longer.”

So crestfallen did the sentry appear that the laegel almost retracted his command – almost. Kalin tried to express his contrition once again, saying to his charge, “My Prince, I did not mean to doubt you. I am sorry.”

“It is too late,” he told his sentry. Since Kalin only stood there, Legolas demanded of Galendil, hoping that he would listen, at least, “Remove him, and then you and Oiolaire are to leave off guarding the door.”

Just as Kalin had done a moment ago, Galendil was shaking his head in negation of his Prince’s order. He began, “But Legolas, Ninan told us –”

“I do not care what Ninan told you!” the Prince yelled. He knew that he sounded like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, like the Elfling they thought him to be, but he was unable to stop himself. He felt like a piece of meat being gnawed on by a ravenous dog. His every muscle ached, his head hurt, his nose was dribbling blood, and he was at his wits end. “If Estel wants to come in here to kill me, then let him! It will be a relief to me, at least, and to all of you, I’d say!” 

The sentries had never seen their benevolent and gentle Prince so upset, or heard him scream as he did now, and had no idea what to do. Luckily for them, the commotion had drawn the attention of the King’s guards in the next hall over, who had then alerted Ninan, as the sentry had been in his King’s room. With his sword drawn, the captain of the guard ran into the room by brusquely pushing past Oiolaire and Galendil where they stood indecisively in the doorway. “What is happening?” he asked Kalin. He looked around him to find that there was no immediate danger to anyone, and thus sheathed his drawn sword to ask again, directing his query once more at his fellow sentry, “Kalin, what is amiss?”

That Ninan had asked Kalin what was occurring, and not his Prince, drove the laegel’s irritation to further heights. _You are no Prince,_ the scar told him. _You are nothing,_ it said. _Not even the sentries, who have made oaths to your family to protect and serve you and your King until their death, deem it necessary to keep their fealty when faced with your madness._

Legolas had never been one to use his position as Prince for his own advantage or order about his people, sentries, or the border patrol when they were all intelligent enough to know what was expected of them. When necessary or when his people had been in doubt, he had led them by his father’s orders and his own good judgment – now that they doubted his judgment, they ignored his demands. He thought again as he had earlier that day, _None of them would ever hesitate if our King gave them the same order._ All these countless years, his father had instilled in him that he would never be a King worthy of leading their people. His father had beaten it into him that he was a failure, that he would never have the acumen or the skills as a warrior to protect the Greenwood from the darkness or from enemy attack, and that his people would never follow him. In more recent times, the King had told his son that he was insane, he was a fool for trusting a human, and his people would find his choice of lovers disgusting, as did the King.

In that brief moment of waiting for Kalin to provide some answer to Ninan about what the shouting was over, Legolas realized that all in all his father had been right. The scar had been right, as well, since it espoused the same opinions as his King. Normally, or typically for him in the last few months after first being attacked in Lake-town, the laegel might have felt despair from this recognition. But now, the Prince found some primal anger within him had been tapped. His depression and frustration had turned into a fury so great that if he had held a sword, the Wood-Elves before him would have felt the sharp edge of the blade rather than the cutting bite of his words. He was on the verge of losing control of himself, he knew, but could not seem to quell his wrath. He was sick of being fearful, he was exhausted of being unheeded, and he would rather die than have their pity anymore.

“Listen to me,” the Prince interrupted, although his befuddled sentry had yet to begin his answer to Ninan. As much as it pained him, he drew himself to his full height, although he had to hold onto the doorway again just to stand up straight. “Kalin, you are no longer in my service. Ninan, remove them all – I want no guards, not in my room, not at my door, and not following me around. Take Kalin into your agency, if you will, and put him in rotation to guard the King.”

Thranduil’s head sentinel was walking towards Legolas slowly, as if approaching some wild beast that might bite, for he could hear the fractious fervency with which his Prince was speaking, even if the laegel was now behaving calmly. Kalin stood openmouthed and dumbstruck, and so it was Ninan who answered as he approached the Prince, saying, “Legolas, what are you doing? You are still in danger. Only this morning you were attacked, and your father still has not awoken from his poisoned sleep. We cannot leave you without protection.”

“I do not care.” He moved away from the doorway and to the bed, as he felt that his leg might give way beneath him and did not want to fall in the floor with his fellow Silvan watching him. “I do not want their protection and I will not suffer having a sentry who believes I am mad and a liar.” He told Ninan as he had told Kalin just a few minutes ago, “If Estel wishes to kill me, let him. It is an easier end to this game he plays.”

“Please do not send me away,” Kalin begged without shame, having found his voice at hearing his Prince say why he wanted him gone. Being the only one amongst the sentries who knew of Legolas’ defilement, and also being the only one of them who knew the signs of when the Prince’s grief spoke to him and thus when to quell it, Kalin feared that without him close by his Prince’s life would not be long. Legolas had already turned away his second family, who were the only other ones capable of aiding the Prince in this way. He did not wish to say these things aloud, though, and embarrass his liege, so Kalin merely walked forward to where Legolas stood by the bed and continued piteously, saying over, “I did not mean to doubt you. I do not believe you are lying, my Prince. I only meant that I could not fathom why Estel would turn against you, when he seemed to love you so.”

 _He lies,_ the scar told him. _He lies as he says you lie. They are all against you._

They stood staring at him, Kalin most especially, for even now his sentry could see from Legolas’ unfocused gaze that he listened to his grief’s damning vocalization. From the way they looked at him, the Prince could tell that the sentries would not listen. Galendil and Oiolaire would remain outside the door, Kalin would chain himself to Legolas’ leg, if he had to, and Ninan would give it all his blessing. His ire overwhelmed him and he needed an outlet, lest his aching head explode. Picking up the half-emptied plate of food, which was the closest thing at hand, the laegel threw it at the fireplace, where it shattered upon the mantel, strewing greens and the crust of bread around the room. The sentries startled at his unexpected action, for the Prince was not prone to such outbursts. His rage not mollified, he next tried to grab the candelabrum on the nightstand, but before he could throw it, Ninan had hold of his arm. The candelabrum fell to the stone floor, the tallow candles sputtering out against the naked stone tiles.

“Legolas,” the King’s shocked sentry reprimanded, while the Prince tried to pull his arm free.

_They would never dare to handle your father this way. They would never rebuke him as if he was an Elfling._

When Ninan’s hold did not give and the scar’s opinion stoked his enflamed ferocity, Legolas swung out with his other arm to knock Ninan away from him, but this arm, too, was caught, though this time it was Kalin who caught his swinging limb. Inadvertently, Kalin’s touch quieted the scar, at least, which would have given the Prince some relief had their hands upon him not revived his dormant dread of being defiled.

“I demand that you let go of me!” he shouted, trying to bully past them, but when he could not break free of them, the laegel then truly lost himself. So much like being bound, like being held against his will did he feel, that all reason vanished. He kicked out at them, his bare foot striking Ninan’s leg and causing the Elf to stumble, but still the sentry did not let go.

Instead, Ninan swept his own leg under Legolas’ calves, taking the injured young Elf’s feet out from under him and causing him to fall backwards onto the bed. At once, Ninan tried to pin him down by his waist, saying, “You will hurt yourself, Prince, becalm.”

Had he not already been injured, he might have stood some chance, even though there were two of them. The odds of getting free of them were against him, but this did not stop him from trying. Legolas now fought against the sensation of being held down to the bed. His inability to be free of their hands touching him brought back memories to him of Estel’s hands upon him as he despoilt him, of Kane’s holding him down in much the same way as Estel had done to abuse the Prince’s body, and of the two merchants in the woods or all three of them in Lake-town, running their hands over his flesh as if he were not an Elf but a mere thing for their enjoyment.

He was completely uninterested in who spoke to him or whose hands held him. He thrashed and writhed, swinging his arms out wildly to fend off whoever it was who had him, who would despoil him or mistreat him as he had so recently been hurt, until Kalin grabbed his arms and pressed them down to the mattress. Even Galendil came inside to aid his fellow sentries in subduing the laegel by pulling the Prince’s flailing legs onto the bed to hinder them, though the wide-eyed Oiolaire stayed outside in the hall to keep guard.

“He has gone mad,” Ninan whispered in horror, his restraint of Legolas not slackening, for despite his injuries and that he could not move, so tight was their hold upon him, the Prince still resisted with the strength he had left.

“We should let him go.” With his hands wrapped tightly around Legolas’ chafed and once again bleeding forearms to keep the infuriated and now terrorized laegel from striking out at them, Kalin pressed his shoulder against the younger Elf’s chest under him to stop Legolas from rising from the bed, belying his own instruction as he sought a better grip on his Prince. “Let him go!” the sentry shouted to Ninan and Galendil, promising, “He fights us because we hold him. Let him go and I will care for him. We are only making this worse.”

Ninan and Galendil looked to each other, sharing their doubt that Kalin would be able to contain the Prince, but neither spoke it aloud. The Wood-Elves had a serious dilemma. Thranduil had brought no healer with him, the servants and sentries he had brought had only the most basic knowledge of herbs and wounds, and the most knowledgeable healer in Middle Earth was in this house but not trusted. Ninan argued, “And what if he hurts himself further? If he tries to jump from the balcony or rams a dagger in your throat? We need to restrain him until we know that he is lucid. Let us tie him to the bed.”

They might have thought him too far gone in lunacy to comprehend of what they spoke, but Legolas heard and understood every word quite clearly, and realizing that his trusted sentries were planning to bind him – less than a day after he had been tied and raped by another who he had trusted – renewed his struggles. Every muscle in his body protested. The blood from his nose was no longer a trickle but a torrent. It flooded the back of his throat and sputtered out of his mouth when he coughed air in and out of his battered torso. Kalin’s pressure on Legolas’ chest was making it hard to breathe and between the blood he couldn’t manage to cough out of his airway and the failure to draw enough air into his compressed lungs, the Wood-Elf was slowly losing consciousness. With this darkening of his senses, his body followed suit and his fighting them slowed to sporadic bouts.

_I will not be tied. I will not be at anyone’s mercy again._

Kalin, at least, tried to put an end to the idea of enfettering their liege. He spoke to Legolas and not his fellow sentries, “Be at peace, my Prince, lest you hurt yourself.” As the sentry rose, allowing Legolas’ chest the room to expand to take in air, Kalin continued to plead with the laegel, “Please, Legolas. Calm. I have no wish to restrain you but if you do not calm we will to preserve your well-being.”

A hand upon his uninjured thigh broke the Prince’s temporary stillness, for in his efforts to get a better hold on his Prince’s legs should his threshing begin again, Galendil unintentionally laid his hand near the inside of the laegel’s thigh. The proximity to his groin panicked the Woodland Prince so greatly that whatever reason Kalin’s pleading had brought back to him was fled once more. He no longer knew who held him, what they said, or why he was being held. The Prince only knew that if he did not escape them, he would be hurt. He would not live through it again. His faer would not tolerate any more captivity. And so, he began his struggles even more fanatically.

“We must tie him,” Ninan ordered in exasperation. “He is too dangerous to let go of right now and he is only injuring himself further!”

Unwillingly, Kalin nodded his agreement, which Ninan took no notice of, for already he was calling out to Oiolaire, “Come, take this sheet from the bed. Make strips of it.”

With his dagger, Oiolaire began to tear the linen sheet into long bands, while his fellow sentries held the belligerent Prince to the bed. Despite his injuries, or perhaps because of them, he fought against them with all that he had. Unaware of his Prince’s recent ravishment, Galendil kept his hand too close to the juncture between Legolas’ thighs, his fingertips overlaying the inside of the laegel’s leg, and although it was nowhere near his sex, it was near enough to whet Legolas’ terror. This one hand was the focus of the Prince’s attention. Twisting his hips and legs, he writhed on the mattress, but they did not relent nor let him move an inch, so great was their fear that should he get free he would harm himself or one of them.

Soon enough, Oiolaire had sufficient strips made of the linen sheet that he began to tie them to one side of the underpinning of the bed, ere moving to the other side to secure them over the laegel.

“I do not like this,” Kalin told them, though none of the other Wood-Elves seemed to listen. Even after saying so, once the Prince’s feet, legs, and hands were bound securely to the bed under him by the bands of cloth, Kalin helped Oiolaire to tie the last linen strip across Legolas’ upper chest.

When they were done, Legolas couldn’t move anything but his head. His arms were bound so tightly to the frame of the bed that he could not even shift them, for in their effort to ensure his safety through this they had looped the soft linen around his bleeding forearms so that he could not slide his limbs out from under the strips of cloth. Once he was free of their hands, the Prince could not help but to give a token effort in striving for his freedom once more, but the linen did not give, and his squirming precipitously stopped with the realization that he was once more bound and at the mercy of those around him.

Legolas closed his eyes. Something that had been bowing under the weight of these new travails had finally become more than he could tolerate. Something had broken inside him. _I do not want to die tied to the bed._ They may have thought they were helping but they were hastening his looming death. _If I must die now, then at least I will die before any has the chance to hurt me again._

His reason had not yet returned fully, but as his fury dissipated his panic swelled, which brought with it a heightening of his senses. He could smell the greens and bread he’d thrown on the mantel. He could hear the crash of the falls as if he lay beside it, instead of in his room. He could taste the coppery bitterness of the blood that flooded his mouth from his nose. Most importantly, he could sense the anxiety of the Wood-Elves around him. While it may have solaced him to know that it was his sentries who held him against his will and not Estel or the merchants, having his people tie him to the bed in fear that he had gone mad was somehow worse. They had seen him at his lowest, when his distress and despair had clouded out all rational thinking. And they would not soon forget it. The ignominy of their knowing the depths of his madness drained the Wood-Elf Prince of all his anger and willpower. He only lay there, waiting for death.

He might have argued to be let free again, but thought, _They will not untie me. They will keep me here, chained like a wild animal, until I am completely broken._ His breathing had become so low and soft that Kalin placed his cheek mere inches away from Legolas’ mouth to see if he could feel where his Prince exhaled. At the nearness of his sentry’s face, the laegel opened his eyes, though he did not dare to look directly at any of his kith.

“I do not like this,” the sentry told his fellow Wood-Elves again. Kalin placed his hand on his charge’s chest to feel for the heartbeat there, a heartbeat that seemed too soft and slow to him. “I do not like his being bound. He is calm. Let us remove these ties.”

From where he laid on the bed, Legolas could see Ninan shake his head while he said, “No, let them remain for a while longer. Perhaps he will find some rest this way.” Sitting on the couch across the way, just where earlier Glorfindel had sat during his interrogation, the King’s guard asked, “What prompted this?”

His hand still on Legolas’ chest, Kalin placed his other hand on the laegel’s head, pushing askance the tangled blond hair that lay over his brow. It was of some assuagement to the Prince to have Kalin near. Despite his being stricken at Kalin’s admission to Glorfindel that he was not entirely certain of Estel’s guilt and despite his having tried to send the sentry away, Legolas held hope that Kalin was still faithful to him. His sentry answered, “Lord Glorfindel came in to ask questions about Legolas’ assailant. I believe recalling his being attacked has brought about this.”

“And you let him in? The Noldor cannot be trusted. The Prince himself told you this himself,” Ninan argued.

“Legolas demanded that I let Lord Glorfindel inside. The Prince answered his questions,” Kalin countered with irritation. “I did as my Prince asked of me.”

They could see that his eyes were open. They knew that he was awake and could hear them. He had stopped his struggle. And still they spoke around him as if he were insentient or incapable of understanding. He had not felt such solitude before. The despair ate at him, gnawing away at his will. Breathing had become too laborious a task for him. The continued humiliation of being treated as if he did not exist set Legolas adrift in hopelessness. Unlike before, when his faer felt that it might suddenly abscond, it now felt leisurely and painfully to be clawing its way free of his rhaw. 

His sentry stood and stared down at his Prince with sudden apprehension, asking Ninan, “I think he is fading. Can you not feel it?” Kalin put his hand upon Legolas’ shoulders, peering down at the younger Elf, although Legolas stared only at the ceiling.

“He is tranquil, Kalin. Leave him be for now.” Ninan did not rise from his seat or sound concerned at all, but only tired. 

“No. I do not like this,” Kalin said for a third time, his anxiety palpable to the Prince. And Kalin had good reason to feel so nervous. The sentry was charged with the welfare of his Prince and his Prince’s welfare was most certainly in question. “We should not have tied him.”

Ninan offered no response, and for a few minutes more, the two Wood-Elf sentries kept watch over their strangely quiet and unresponsive Prince, while Galendil and Oiolaire kept watch over the door from outside in the hall.

“Legolas?” Kalin asked, shaking the laegel by his hold of his Prince’s shoulders. To Ninan he said, “He will not look at me and he barely breathes. We know nothing of how to aid him. We should get Elrond.”

“You will only upset him by bringing Elrond into this. He does not trust the Noldor!” Ninan exclaimed, rising from the couch to stand beside the bed. Together the two Wood-Elf sentries looked down upon him, while Legolas looked up and not at them. The King’s captain of the guard knelt upon the mattress so that he could look directly down into his Prince’s face, such that he blocked Legolas’ view of the ceiling above him. He tried as had Kalin in gaining the laegel’s attention, saying, “Prince Legolas?”

When the Prince seemed to look right through Ninan, he turned to Kalin to suggest, “He looks as if he is in reverie. Maybe he is resting.”

Shaking Legolas by the shoulders again, Kalin disagreed, “No, he is not resting. I know my Prince. He is fading while we sit here arguing over whether to ask Elrond for help. I am finding Lord Elrond, or one of his sons, to help us.”

“No, Kalin – ” Ninan began, likely in an attempt to stop his underling from fetching any of the Noldor.

Out of the corner of his eye, the laegel noted that at some point, Kalin had begun to weep silently, the tears dribbling down his face, but it was not sadness that Kalin showed to Ninan. Having had enough of his Prince’s odd demeanor and unable to withstand Ninan’s indifference to the Prince being incuriously passive, Kalin snarled to his superior, “I am fetching Elrond. I am not sitting here while Legolas fades.” Kalin did not offer further explanation or any room for discussion on the matter. To the laegel the sentry said, “I will be back shortly. Stay with us, my Prince, please.”

Now that Kalin meant to leave and even though he had earlier demanded that his sentry go, Legolas thought he might lose the last of his reasonable mind should his sentry abandon him to be left alone with the other guards who did not care for him as did Kalin. He wanted to call out to his sentry to remain, lest the inexplicable fear and shame cause him finally to let his faer loose from the broken cage of his body, but before he thought to open his mouth and before Ninan could argue against asking for Elrond’s help, Kalin fled the room. Vapid and vacant, the laegel closed his eyes and waited for death.


	33. Chapter 33

He sat in front of his father’s desk – the long, polished wooden oak desk that had sat in the same spot, covered in many of the same books and quills and pots of ink, for the whole of Aragorn’s life. If it had ever been placed anywhere else in the massive study, Estel would be surprised to learn it. Elrond was not one for change. In the long life of an Elf, change usually came slowly if at all, and unlike humans, who seemed to want new surroundings, furniture, clothes, and such every few years, Elves tended to keep to the same and took better care of their possessions to make them last. It may have been the transience of human life that caused the Secondborn to desire new things, as if the constant change was a ruler by which to measure the short lengths of their lives.

 _My Greenleaf has endured too much in such a short time,_ the Ranger lamented. He pinched the bridge of his nose to keep himself in the present. It would be another sleepless night for him, or so he imagined. He was tired. His body ached, though he was not hurt. The human could only think that it ached in sympathy for his missing other half – the Wood-Elf over whom they would soon palaver was hopefully in his bed, resting under the watchful guard of Kalin. _I am just a brief moment in Legolas’ life, as well. He has spent more years living than I can comprehend._

Across the way, Elrohir was kneeling on the floor before his twin, strapping his brother’s boot for him, having not been asked to do this, but merely having seen that Elladan’s bootstrap was coming loose. The twins were odd in this way. Oftentimes one would hand the other a flask or cup, or pass a quill or book or the basket of bread at the dinner table, without a word from the other requesting it but somehow still knowing what his twin required. When younger, Estel had been awed at their likeness in mind more than their identical bodies, and even now, seeing the two brothers so close made him wonder if they would ever be able to find she-Elves to whom they might bond. As the twins were nearly inseparable already, the Ranger could not fathom either Elrohir or Elladan placing a she-Elf above his brother.

Thinking of his twin brothers trying to accommodate a family life caused his thoughts to return to Legolas. They waited for Glorfindel to arrive with word from the Prince. Upon his being told that Glorfindel had gone to question Legolas, the Ranger had commenced his worry that the commander’s questions would only incite the laegel’s underlying grief and bring about the resumption of the scar’s torment. It had been too late to stop Glorfindel, as he had already been in Legolas’ rooms when Estel had been found and brought here by the twins for this meeting. He could only hope that Kalin would remain by his Prince’s side for comfort.

At the massive desk sat Elrond, who had his chin resting thoughtfully on his steepled fingers, his elbows on the tabletop. On the other side of the twins sat Erestor, who was leafing through a book. From where his chair was placed, the Ranger could only see a bit of writing on the book’s spine, though it led him to believe that the tome concerned bewitchment of some sort. During this time of waiting for Glorfindel, Elrond and Erestor had shared what the two of them and Glorfindel had spoken of prior to this meeting. The three elders had decided that some sorcery was at hand here – they could find no other plausible reason for Legolas to believe that his attacker had been Estel, unless Greenleaf was outright hallucinating. As awful as the laegel being ensorcelled might have sounded, Estel preferred that explanation to the one where his lover was hallucinating – if the Wood-Elf had gone mad from the woe that his attacker had caused, then the Ranger feared that Legolas might never be whole and well again. Already Estel dreaded that even should he prove his innocence to the Prince that Legolas might never want him near again, just to avoid the distress that might come about from the awful memories of what had happened to him when his attacker was under the guise of Aragorn.

They had rejected spellcraft, for the powers of vilya and the magic of the Elves in Imladris should have protected Legolas from such enchantment, as all who resided in the valley were supposedly sheltered. This left only amulets and other items that might have been brought into the Last Homely House. Even here in Elrond’s study, amongst the bottles of dried herbs and bones and various objects that Aragorn had no name for, there were items of great power that his father had collected over his many years. Most of them he kept for study, some of them he saved just to keep them out of the hands of those that might use them for ill, and then there were others that Elrond retained because they might one day be of use to him or those he trusted to implement them properly. So many of these objects did Elrond have that he had no inventory of them, and Erestor and his father had both voiced their worries that someone might have obtained such an item from Elrond’s study for use against Legolas. For that reason, since the morning, when Elrond had left his sons to find Glorfindel and Erestor and after speaking with them and deciding that it must be some amulet or periapt, the trio had searched the Peredhel’s study for signs that someone had broken into one of his many locked chests and armoires. They had found nothing out of place, however.

Even still, there were others who might have sorcerous objects and other places in the valley where such items could be found. His father and Erestor had made a list of them to the twins, who intended to see for themselves that the people or places that held the magical items were secure. Some of the Elves who might have amulets or other similar objects were deemed trustworthy by Elrond – such as scholars and lorekeepers in the Last Homely House – but they might have had their charms stolen. Estel had only half listened for this part of their conversation. Elladan and Elrohir would make a quick round of the apothecary, where certain objects with healing purposes were kept, the library, where items that were allegedly inert might be stored for historical posterity, and the stables, where the horsemaster kept some magic imbued trinkets for training the horses and domesticating the livestock.

It was abnormally quiet in Elrond’s study. With the family together and Erestor amongst them, usually the twins would be bickering good-naturedly, while Elrond and Erestor would be arguing over some policy or philosophizing over some book they had read. Indeed, it was so hushed that Estel actually heard Glorfindel as he came down the hall and to the door to the study, and only then because the commander was humming.

 _He bears bad news,_ the Ranger decided. _Glorfindel does not sing or hum unless his mind is filled with dismal thoughts._

With expectation, everyone in the room – four Elves and a Ranger – all turned to the door to watch as Glorfindel finally arrived. The commander did not bother to knock or announce himself, but strode straight to where they all sat around Elrond’s desk.

“Would he see you?” Elladan asked without greeting, standing to provide Glorfindel his chair, who waved his hand at the offering and instead went to sit on the arm of Erestor’s chair, his hand sweeping fleetingly, lovingly over the advisor’s shoulder ere he turned to his audience. Despite the calamitous events about which they would discuss and what he imagined would prove to be a bleak conversation, the Ranger smiled briefly at the familiarity with which the two paramours acted amongst their close friends. Few knew of Erestor and Glorfindel’s clandestine love affair, and thus few would ever see them act intimately.

Before Elladan had even managed to sit back down, Glorfindel was answering his question, saying, “He did allow me within, yes. His head sentry, Kalin, was in his room with him while we spoke, and he still has two guards outside in the hall for his protection. Or he did when I left the hallway. He has been in good hands with Kalin, I believe.”

Having not yet told any of his Elven friends and family of Kalin’s almost slitting his throat that evening, Estel could only muse in foul humor, _Kalin’s good hands were almost covered in my blood._

As if he were giving a report, the commander rattled off before they could question him, “A half-eaten plate was by the bed, so I assume Legolas is not starving. Although he looks unkempt, the bandaging on his wrists has been recently changed and some unguent has been spread on him, for I could smell the camphor. I don’t know how battered he was earlier, but this night, he appeared to have no newly made bruises, although having seen his bare legs, his arms, and his face, I can tell that he endured a vicious beating. All his wounds seemed to be healing, though. Those upon his person, at least.” The commander’s head tilted to one side in contemplation before he continued, “Strangely, however, his nose bled several times during our conversation, while it seemed no injury had been done to it. Most notably, it seemed to start bleeding when he tried to recall events that he had no memory of, if I am not mistaken.”

 _That is strange, indeed,_ the human agreed as he shifted in agitation, crossing and uncrossing his legs at the ankle in the effort to keep from standing. If he stood right now, he might just run to Legolas’ rooms. _If it is indeed sorcery that holds Legolas under its thrall, then his fighting against its influence in trying to remember what it has caused him to forget is having physical effects on him._

“I asked the questions that we agreed upon,” Glorfindel told them, speaking of the earlier conversation between the three elder Elves, “and he gave me what answers that he could. He does not recall where he went after leaving his rooms, before accusing Estel. When asked if he had truly gone for a walk in the woods ere he was assaulted, he said that although he told you that he went for a walk in the woods, he did not remember being in the woods at all. He did, however, remember something that surprised me.”

Eagerly, the commander’s audience listened as Glorfindel spoke, who directed his words mostly to the elders in the room – Elrond and Erestor, “While we thought he would have no recollection of his attack except to believe that it was Estel, Legolas told me that he could recall every detail of it. He told me that he was in a storage room under the back stairs, near to the library on the third floor, and although he had no memory of how he came to be there, he said that Estel asked to meet him there. Of course, he did not recall how Estel asked to meet him there, since they had no contact for Estel to do so. It was during this recollection that his nose began to bleed freely, and often he rubbed at his face and head, as if it pained him.”

No one interrupted Glorfindel, not even to question his odd recitation of Legolas’ answers, and so the commander went on to say, “The first that he says he remembers is realizing that his hands were tied and a blindfold placed upon him. He did not offer details of his beating and I had not the heart to ask him.”

Here, the commander left off, his face turned towards the chair upon whose arm he sat, his gaze on where Erestor’s knees were crossed on the seat. He did not seem to be looking at Erestor, though, but appeared as if he were lost in his thoughts. It was so unlike Glorfindel that it made the Adan nervous, and from the fidgeting of the twins sitting near to him, Estel could see that he was not the only one discomfited by the commander’s uncharacteristic reticence.

When the silence had grown long, Glorfindel sighed and continued, “I know that he suffers still from the sorrow of his tribulations over the last months, but the betrayal he feels from thinking that Estel has beaten him – it is far too much. Greater than I would expect. Over the course of speaking with him, he pestered his chest, rubbing it as you said he did when he almost released his faer,” the commander told Elrond, “and before I left, he nearly did give in to grief. I think that there is more to this than he has told.”

 _Glorfindel could not be more right,_ the Ranger thought. Hearing that Legolas had once more almost let his sorrow claim him made the human want to flee the room and comfort the laegel. If he hadn’t been certain that his presence would cause the Wood-Elf Prince more grief than comfort, he might have taken off right then.

“But Kalin is still with him?” Elrond asked. His father had told them of his advice to Kalin – not to leave Greenleaf’s side nor let him long out of his reach. Knowing that Kalin stood guard over the laegel was the only succor the Ranger had for his anxiety for the Wood-Elf. This comfort was soon removed.

“I am not sure if he still remains by his Prince.” Heaving a great sigh, Glorfindel shook his head. He adjusted where he sat on the arm of Erestor’s chair. Perhaps the ebon-haired advisor felt his lover’s dolor, for he reached out and placed his hand upon Glorfindel’s forearm, which prompted the commander to elucidate, “Before I even left the hall, there was a ruckus inside Legolas’ room. I heard Legolas ordering Kalin to leave. One of his other sentries opened the door, and as I came up the stairs, I saw Ninan running down the hall towards the Prince’s chambers. I almost went back, but I am of no use in palliative measures,” the commander regretted bitterly. “Hopefully, Legolas’ sentries are not turned away by his anger.”

 _So now, he trusts no one? If not even Kalin can aid him, we will lose him._ The thought of Legolas alone in his chambers with nothing but his sorrow tore at the human. _Surely, he did not dissuade Kalin so easily,_ the human hoped.

“It is my fault,” the commander complained, which earned him a soothing, brief touch upon his lean thigh from Erestor. “I believe during our conversation I nearly convinced Kalin that his Prince was wrong about Estel, and in doing so, induced Legolas into thinking that his sentry has turned against him. In fact, he made a portentous statement about being utterly alone in his beliefs and fear, and that he would be free to die once his father was safely gone from the valley.”

Glorfindel’s ominous words did not sit well with those in the room. They each took their time in assessing his story until Elrond broke the silence, comforting Glorfindel by saying, “No, my friend, you did as we agreed. We are all to blame, then,” he said of himself, Erestor, and the commander. “I do not know what has facilitated our Greenleaf’s grief, unless his latent misery from the scar has taken hold of him. But I do not believe that Kalin will be so easily cast aside from his Prince.”

Even after these many months, it still sounded odd to Estel for Legolas, Elrond, the twins, or anyone else who knew of it to speak of the laegel’s physical manifestation of his sorrow – the scar he had born on his leg that was now an intricate web of slowly healing mars – as if it were a living, sentient thing that was separate from the Wood-Elf. It had only been Legolas’ propensity to do this already – that is, his troubled faer becoming benumbed of the misery caused by his rhaw undergoing his father’s rage – that had created the same reaction when faced with the insurmountable helplessness and despondency from his torment by the human merchants. From what Elrond had told him, his foster father had never known of or read of another instance where, in the effort to survive, an Elf’s fading faer had taken such drastic action as to isolate its sorrow into corporeal form. Elrond had found it fascinating these last few months to learn more of it from Legolas, but only because he had thought that the Prince was relieved of the scar’s suasion. Now that it had returned, Elrond’s interest was again worry. The scar was complicating what might have been a simpler situation, had the scar not existed to worsen the Prince’s distress over the threat to his father’s life and his own assailment.

But the Ranger knew better. It was not just the scar that tormented Legolas. He had held the Elf in the private garden only a few hours ago and it had done nothing to negate the Prince’s belief that the Ranger was the one who had perpetrated his new misery. _No,_ he thought, _this is not the scar; it is not just his grieving faer. It must be sorcery._ Before his family and friends could discuss Glorfindel’s news, Aragorn needed to share all the pertinent facts; that evening, he had found out from Legolas details that they needed to know to aid the Prince better.

As hard as it would be to tell them, the human drew their attention by sharply inhaling, and then saying, “I managed to speak to Greenleaf this evening alone to ask him of why he thought I was the one who poisoned his father and why he thought I was responsible for his being attacked.” At the flustered look of his father, who had specifically told him to avoid the Prince, Estel persisted in a hurry, saying, “I asked to speak with him, he agreed, and Kalin stood outside the room as we did so.”

This appeased Elrond, at least, and he sat back in his chair, asking, “And what did he tell you?”

He truly had no desire to relate to them what Greenleaf had disclosed. Had they all not needed to know, Estel would have kept the accusations to himself. It was terrible enough that the Prince had suffered in his own home in Mirkwood, but to have been used by his attacker in Elrond’s house was just as awful, as it ruined the last place that Legolas might feel at home and at peace. Telling this tale would also incense Elrond beyond reason. It worried the Ranger that his Ada may act rashly. He had never known the Elf to act irrationally, but he had never had to tell his father of an occurrence in his own house that was so crude and cruel, and something that had happened to the Wood-Elf whom he considered one of his own sons.

But he had started and now he must finish. They all looked at him in impatience to know of what Legolas said.

“Not much that he told me could I understand – mostly, he said that he believes that I have caused all this, that I have betrayed him, and that I have instructed him to force his kith and kin to leave Rivendell once his father awakes, while he must remain. He thinks that I will again mistreat him once his people are gone, which is likely why he intends to wait until he feels his father is safe before he dies. He also made certain to assure me that he had accused me to no one, as if I had threatened him against doing so,” he hedged, hesitant as of yet how he would break the worst of his news to them. In the end, he decided to be blunt. It would do none of them, especially his lover, any good to dither. With a sigh that felt to deflate his entire chest, he said, “Legolas told me that this morning, when he was beaten, he was also raped.” Quietly, for he nearly retched at his own words, Estel added, “And he believes I have done this, as well.”

The Elves around him did not speak. In fact, no one moved, either. Had not they blinked as they stared at him, Estel might have thought he was in the company of five Elven statues rather than living beings. For a moment, he feared that they might not have heard him or understood him and that he would have to repeat the awful account he had shared. Just saying it once had caused his belly to grumble in protest, for the mere mention of his lover suffering, much less believing it to be him that had done it, made the Ranger’s sickness return. A cold sweat broke out upon his forehead and he held his arm across his belly as though to hold the muscles there from contracting and causing him to vomit.

Finally, his foster father rose from his seat at the desk, doing so slowly, as if his ancient body was too tired to rise rapidly; yet, the moment he stood completely, Elrond acted too swiftly for the Ranger to see as he thrust one arm out across his desk in a violent motion, flinging from the tabletop all the books, scrolls, and a pot of ink that had resided there, which caused the items to fly out in fluttering paper, thudding books hitting the wall, and a spray of black ink that fanned out across the shelf nearby and the items thereon, while the inkpot itself shattered on the floor amidst a growing puddle of the shadowy liquid that it had once held. Now they all looked at Elrond, who was not yet done venting his wrath, it seemed, for the Peredhel pushed back his chair hard enough to cause it to fall over, and then slammed both fisted hands upon his desk, bellowing in rage, “I will not have this! Not in my house and not to our Greenleaf!”

Too stunned to react, as not once in his years in the valley had he ever seen his Ada this irate, Estel sat gawking at the Elf Lord. Even Glorfindel, who was normally unflappable, was stunned at Elrond’s eruption. The Peredhel shoved the desk away, causing more items to clatter to the floor and the lit oil lamp nearly to fall off the edge; and then, the ancient Elf was marching around the desk and to the door.

Erestor and Glorfindel seemed to know what Elrond intended though his two Elven sons and human foster son all were at a loss as to what the Peredhel was doing. Quickly, the commander was on his feet and sprinting to his Lord before he could reach the door, while from where he sat, the stately Erestor called calmingly, “Elrond! Do not act foolishly, my friend!”

In addition to never having seen his Ada this infuriated, he had also never seen his father act impulsively. The Ranger sat in unchecked astonishment to see Elrond behave this way. He had earlier thought that his father might take this news poorly, and he had been right, but he had also thought that Elrond would demand to see Greenleaf to ensure his well-being, and it appeared that he was right about this also, and that this was now his father’s intent.

His hand tightly wound in the sleeve of Elrond’s robe, Glorfindel yanked the Peredhel to a halt before Elrond had walked close enough to open the door to the study. Had it been most anyone else to treat his foster father in such a way, the Ranger would have been on his feet to end it immediately, regardless that Elrond could well take care of himself. Being as it was Glorfindel and that the commander had good cause, Estel was glad that the commander had moved so quickly. An angry Elrond would not behave civilly towards any Silvan who blocked his path to Legolas. Looking down at the hand that kept him from his quarry – the suffering Wood-Elf downstairs in his chambers – Elrond visibly calmed himself by closing his eyes and straightening his shoulders. Even then, it wasn’t until the Peredhel turned back to them and away from the door that Glorfindel removed his hold of Elrond.

“Come sit down,” Erestor asked of Elrond gently, telling him, “let us think this through. We will find some way for you to see to him. We will not let him suffer alone.”

With Glorfindel on his heels as if in alarm that Elrond might return to his mission of seeking out the Prince, the Peredhel ambled slowly back to his desk. The commander righted the knocked over chair and then held it while Elrond reseated himself. It wasn’t until Elrond was settled that Glorfindel finally left his Lord’s side to return to his own seat on the arm of Erestor’s chair.

“I would never have sent you to question him if I had known this,” his foster father rued, gazing down at the mess he made but making no move to clean it. “We have likely exacerbated his grief. And now you say that he has tried to cast Kalin out of his rooms and he speaks of being alone and wishing to die.” Elrond turned away from the mess in the floor and back to where Erestor and Glorfindel sat together, his verdigris eyes welled with unshed tears. “He will not make it the night if I do not find some method to ease his anguish.”

“Did he tell you anything else of his being attacked, Estel?” Erestor asked of him in impatience to learn more to aid the Wood-Elf, and again they all returned their attention to the Ranger.

He thought a moment. “He told me that he knew it was me that attacked him, for I knew just how best to wound him, both in words and actions. He admitted that until he was assailed late last night – or very early this morning, whichever – the scar had been quiet. That it wasn’t until he was being attacked that it spoke, so it cannot have been the scar that caused his accusation of me the first time, nor his distrust of us prior to this early morning. And even then, when it spoke,” he began but paused. Hearing Legolas repeat what the scar had told him had pained the Ranger, and having to repeat the vindictive words himself wounded him evermore. But he had to tell them, and so he braced himself and said, “When it spoke, one of the things it told him was that he was a whore for my amusement. He said he knew now that it spoke truly.”

The desolation on the twins matching faces was too much for Estel, so he turned to his father, only to see a similar despair on his similar face. Even not being as close to Legolas as were his second family, Erestor and Glorfindel were just as concerned as the others were.

“What I cannot reconcile,” he told them, scooting forward in his chair in eager agitation to hear their counsel, “is that he told me that while he…” The Ranger faltered here. He had been about to mention the laegel being defiled, but again, just saying the words brought back the imagining of his lover being tied and forced to submit to another’s lust, and the human’s belly started its roiling. He tried once more, changing how he explained to them, “He said that I told him that I wished I could have joined Cort and Sven, the two merchants in the woods, as they took their turns with him.” Unable to sit any longer, the Ranger stood from his seat and meandered around the chair he’d just vacated, walking in an irregular circle just to keep moving. For the benefit of Glorfindel and Erestor, who likely did not know of it, Estel told them, “It is the first utterance that his grieving faer – the scar – made to Legolas. That my desire for him was me sating the lust that watching his subjugation had sparked.”

Having made several circles of his chair, the Ranger stood behind to put his hands on its back. “Who else would know of such a thing? Some of us in this room, Legolas, and who else? Who would know so specific a detail of his torment that he could use it against Legolas? To convince him that it was me by using his worst fear against him?”

Erestor had taken to running his hand along the inside of Glorfindel’s calf in absentminded thoughtfulness, and he ruminated aloud, “Unless someone has shared this information with someone else, and it has become known to the culprit via gossip?”

“Well, I have certainly made no mention of it to anyone else other than some of us here, and neither has Elrohir,” Elladan told them for his and his twin’s behalf. Elrohir nodded his agreement with Elladan’s statement.

“I have spoken only to Legolas of what the scar says to him, or as Elladan has said, amongst our family or the closest of our friends,” Elrond supplemented, with the closest of their friends meaning Glorfindel and Erestor, to whom he had spoken of Legolas’ troubles in detail just that morning.

The Elves around him sat in silence as the night lingered on while each tried to decipher this puzzle, until Glorfindel asked, “What of Kalin? You said that he would know of the scar’s exact insults.”

The notion of Kalin being the one who had beaten his Prince, much less forced his will upon the laegel, was preposterous, but then, so was the idea that Aragorn had done it. Still, the Ranger dismissed this idea at once, saying, “Kalin nearly slit my throat this evening when he overheard Legolas accuse me of being the one to despoil him – I do not think he could feign such wrath against me if he were in truth the guilty one.”

He realized that he had told them more than he had intended when Elrohir jumped up from his chair to shout, “What do you mean, Estel, that he almost slit your throat?”

Looking about him, every Elf in the room save for Glorfindel had the same distraught face. The commander, oddly enough, was smirking. Before he could answer his brother or ask Glorfindel why he thought it amusing that he had almost been slain by the Prince’s sentry, Glorfindel said, “I knew the moment I saw Kalin this evening that bloodlust had taken over his mind. You are very lucky to have escaped his wrath, Estel. He loves his Prince more than he loves his own life.”

“Estel!” Elladan exclaimed to regain his brother’s attention, for he was not about to let the human off the hook from providing an explanation.

Dismissing Elrohir’s worry with a shrug of his shoulders, the Ranger sat back down in his chair and clarified, “He merely threatened, although his threat was very real. Legolas stopped him.”

He left out that Kalin had not immediately responded to his Prince’s order to release him. It would only enrage his family to know that Kalin might seek justice again without his Prince’s consent, and being that the Ranger wanted Kalin to stay beside Legolas, to slit the throat of the true culprit if the time came, he did not want Elrond to force him to leave the house or the valley in fear that Kalin might wrongly punish Estel. “As I said, he overheard Legolas accuse me of being the one to hurt him and did just as I hope he will to the actual assailant, if given the chance.”

“And I believe if given the chance, Kalin will do just that. However, that is not quite what I meant,” Glorfindel interrupted before further argument over Kalin’s actions could be given. “Legolas trusts Kalin with his secrets, or so he assured me when I questioned him. I do not suspect that the other Wood-Elf sentries know, for Legolas would not want his people to learn of such things and Kalin seems intent to keep the other sentries from knowing how tormented Legolas is in the effort to keep the other Silvan from losing respect for the Prince. Which is a wise decision, just in case Thranduil does not awake.” The commander once more asked his question, this time with clarification, “If no one here has shared the details of the Prince’s grief with anyone, with whom might Kalin have shared it?”

While not rhetorical, none in the room answered the commander, and soon, none had the opportunity, for all the Elves suddenly turned to the door, which caused Estel to turn to the door, as well. Even before their unexpected visitor started knocking, Elrond had gotten up from his seat to find out who was at his study’s door this late in the evening. Barely had the visitor knocked before Elrond had the portal open. He could not see who it was, but soon they were all on their feet and heading to entrance to the study when they heard the Peredhel exclaim to their caller, “What is the matter, Kalin? Is it Greenleaf?”

The Prince’s sentry stood in the hallway, tears pouring freely from his eyes, abject sorrow and fear causing the fair Wood-Elf to appear apparitional, so blanched was his skin. The Silvan had not yet spoken. Blood stained the front of his tunic, his sleeves, and his hands, although Kalin did not appear hurt. Just seconds ago, Elrohir and Elladan had been ready to take the sentry to task for almost killing their human brother, but all this was forgotten in their eagerness to know news of their Silvan brother. Leaving Estel to stand in the shadows just behind the door, the twins joined Erestor, Glorfindel, and their father to gather around the weeping Wood-Elf sentry. Through the crack between the hinges did the human peer. He feared that Kalin would not tell them what was wrong if he saw that the Ranger – who he believed to be his Prince’s rapist – was listening in on the conversation.

“Kalin?” the commander demanded with the authoritative tone he used with his own warriors, but this did not provoke the wavering Wood-Elf into speaking, even when Glorfindel barked, “Speak. What has happened?”

 _Please do not let it be._ His breath faltered out of fear of what Kalin would tell them. There was only one reason that the human could imagine that would bring the distrusting Kalin to them in his current, bereft state – his Prince’s death. _Please do not let him say Greenleaf has passed._ His own heart seized and threatened to cease at the possibility of Legolas’ heart having stopped its fretful beating.

Elrond must have held the same fear, for he grabbed Kalin’s arm and roughly shook the Silvan as if to rouse him. This worked, it seemed, for the sentry’s eyes focused though he gave no one else standing around him even a cursory glance. He beseeched the Peredhel, “Please, my Lord Elrond, come help Legolas.”


	34. Chapter 34

“Where is he?” the Peredhel asked at once, again grabbing hold of Kalin’s arm and starting to lead him away to wherever the Prince would be found. “What has happened?”

“He is in his rooms. I am glad that I found you so quickly, Lord Elrond,” came Kalin’s reply, and before more than that could be said, the Wood-Elf and Peredhel were on their way down the hall at a near run, their conversation dwindling to inaudibility the farther away the two became.

 _At least Ada will be able to tend to Greenleaf._ Seeing his father so upset about the laegel’s exploitation, which had been compounded by his inability to treat the Wood-Elf’s wounds or tend his grieving faer with his fatherly concern, had hurt the Ranger almost as much as his not being allowed to see to Legolas himself.

Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel all began through the door to follow, but Erestor stuck his arm out to bar them from exiting, telling the twins and Ranger, “No, you will stay here with me. Legolas will not want a crowd of curious onlookers, friends or not.”

“I am not keen to have Ada alone with the Wood-Elves,” Elrohir argued. Although he did not dare to push past Erestor, he did not move back from the doorway.

Coming to stand close behind his twin, Elladan added to his brother’s proclamation, “Nor am I. Kalin may have come asking for Ada’s help but the others may not be so welcoming. Ada should not be alone amongst them.”

Estel had not thought of this, but hearing it aloud made him worry for his father, as well. He would like to think that the Wood-Elf sentries would not try to intimidate Elrond, much less make good on any such threats, for they were in Elrond’s house, after all, and dependent upon his hospitality at the moment, but the human had never believed that they would attack him either and he had nearly lost his life to Kalin earlier that evening in thinking that the sentry would act prudently.

Erestor thought on this dilemma for a moment before he looked beside him to Glorfindel, who did not need the words spoken aloud to understand. The commander ordered the three brothers and Erestor, “Move from the way,” before he left to try to catch up to Elrond as he and Kalin sped down the hall.

 _Ada could not be safer than if all three of his sons went with him._ He could see the twins’ relief and knew that they thought the same as he did – no one would be of threat to Elrond with Glorfindel there, even unarmed as he was. They watched as their Ada and Kalin disappeared down the stairs with Glorfindel on their heels. Ruefully, the human wished that he could go along, but knew, _I would not be allowed near Legolas, anyway. My presence would likely only upset him._

They had been given no time to ask any questions. Aragorn did not know if his lover was hurt, if he was overcome by despair, or if he was dying. For Kalin to seek out Elrond’s help meant that either Legolas had asked for his Minyatar, which was a good portent for the laegel’s possible rescindment of distrust, or that Kalin had decided that they needed Elrond despite his Prince’s distrust, which meant that the Wood-Elf Prince was in dire condition or unconscious, and therefore not able to argue against Elrond’s coming. However, it did bode well for them that Kalin had decided to trust Elrond to help his Prince, for Legolas was in sore need of a healer and if Elrond could maintain Kalin’s trust, then they had an avenue by which to aid the laegel.

 _Either way,_ he thought, staring down the now empty hallway, _I must still wait to see what is occurring._

“Come,” Erestor told them, using his held out arm to herd them back into the study, saying as he shut the door, “let us wait here for news of Legolas.”

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Because they stood around him, watching him even though he could not move, Legolas kept his eyes shut. They did not know what to do for him. They likely waited for Kalin and Elrond, not knowing or maybe disbelieving that their Prince was eagerly dying on the bed before them. His inability to evade the sentries’ agitated observation of him caused the laegel as much aggravation as did being tied. _Where is Kalin?_ the Prince wondered in anxious desire to have his sentry return to him. He felt that perhaps he had grown too dependent on his sentry’s presence, but Kalin was the only friend that he had left, what with his Minyatar, the twins, and the Ranger all against him. The other Silvan sentries were loyal subjects, and though he could trust them all with his life, he was their Prince, not their friend. Selfishly, all Legolas wanted was a little peaceful company as he died. Even though he had tried to send Kalin away, as he lay dying, he wanted the sentry near. But, at the same time, he was also glad that Kalin was not there to suffer through his passing. He had no wish to force further grief upon his sentry.

_He has left you, as you deserve. Why do you not just die?_

The Prince listened raptly to the scar’s opinion and did not argue against it. He coveted death. More than anything – more than wanting to see his father sentient, more than his childish wish that he would wake from all this as if it were a dream, more than desiring his people to be out of the valley and back in the relative safety of Mirkwood – the Prince wanted to close his eyes and let the darkness take him.

_You do them all a favor in dying. They will suffer your insanity no longer._

Since Kalin had left, presumably to find Elrond as he had declared, the scar had not relented in its fulmination about Legolas’ continued existence. _Let me die._ He longed to reach down and seize the muscle of his thigh, which twitched and spasmed in commiseration with the hateful voice that taunted him. _Let me die so that there will be silence._ When he finally felt that he could take no more, Legolas tried to still his breathing and let his battered rhaw find peace. _It is not worth this._ Not even the anxiety he felt for his father broke through the calm of his passing. _Ninan will ensure my father’s well-being. If I am dead, surely Estel will not try to take further revenge against my father._ The tranquility of his imminent demise settled over him, as heavy, cool, and soothing as water, as though he were lying on the rock and silt bottom of the Bruinen with the river flowing over him. _I would rather die here, now, listening to the falls and without anyone to weep over me._ His death would be much the same as if he were drowning, lying on the river’s bed. He would be forever still while his people and friends, his father, and even the Ranger all drifted along time’s current without him. _Let them all live on without me. It will be a reprieve to them, I am sure._

“Greenleaf,” the laegel heard someone say, just as he had been ready to breathe his last. Instinctively, his lungs gasped in the way that a drowning Elf gulps in air upon breaking the surface of the water. He knew it had to be Elrond who had spoken, for his fellow Silvan did not call him by his common tongue nickname, and since Kalin had just been off to fetch the healer, it seemed natural to assume it was his Minyatar.

Feeling as if his lashes were pasted to his cheeks, the laegel pried his eyes open by dint of sheer willpower. _If I am to die, then I would see at least one friendly face before I pass._ His sentries, though not unkind, had been staring at him as if he were an oddity – his Minyatar would not look at him in that way, the Prince was certain. Once the umbra in his vision cleared enough that he could see the Elf whom he thought of as another father, Legolas ascertained that his Minyatar was weeping, as was Kalin, who had come in with the Peredhel. _Although now they will bear witness to my ending. It would have been better for everyone had they come too late, after I have died._ Glorfindel was directly behind the two, his impossibly unaffected face was atypically full of emotion right now – guilt. _I ought not to die without telling Glorfindel that this is not his fault. His questions only hastened the inevitable. Nor is this Minyatar’s fault. I am sure that Elrond feels that he should have been able to keep me safe in his own house._ Before he closed his eyes for the final time, he might also ask for their forgiveness for being a coward, a fool, and for bringing hardship and turmoil into the normally peaceful valley. He castigated himself, _I only find some reason to hold on. Am I so craven that I cannot even die without trying to find some trivial reason to remain?_

“Ion nin,” Elrond lachrymosely whispered. His Minyatar did not waste a moment but came to him immediately, and seeing that he was tied to the bed, turned to the nearest sentry, who happened to be Ninan. Without a word, Elrond seized the dagger at Ninan’s side; instead of pulling the dagger free of its sheath, he thrust Ninan away forcefully with a hand on the Silvan’s chest, thus pushing the sheath from the dagger, which caused the sentry to stagger backwards. “You fools,” Elrond inveighed quietly, acrimoniously, telling the Wood-Elves, “What idiocy compelled you to tie him after what he has gone through only this morning? Are you trying to kill your Prince?”

Too stunned to respond, Ninan and the other Wood-Elves only watched as Elrond began to cut the strips of linen sheet that they had used to tie the Prince’s beaten body to the bed. Eager to free the laegel from the confines that were strangling his faer into death, Elrond sawed through the cloth with alacrity, and when it seemed that it would take too long and the Prince fade before he could halt it, Elrond enlisted Kalin’s help, ordering, “Cut free his feet. And quickly. His life depends upon it.”

But Kalin had his own dagger out before Elrond had even ordered it: he was already slicing through the cloth they had tied across the Prince’s ankles. Ninan, who had been slow to react to Elrond’s appearance and now his actions, suddenly remembered that his Prince did not trust the Noldor and realized that it was his place to put an end to this, and so moved to stop the Peredhel. He placed his hand on Elrond’s shoulder, intending to pull him from his toil and his Prince as he said, “Leave him, he has gone mad and become violent. He will injure himself if you free him.”

Elrond did not deign to argue with the Wood-Elf nor did he even acknowledge the captain of the guard, but Glorfindel grabbed Ninan’s hand and wrested it away from where it had hold of Elrond, before roughly seizing the sentry’s shoulder to turn him around and closer to the commander. With his hand then fisted in Ninan’s tunic, he warned, “Do not touch him,” before by his grasp of the Wood-Elf’s shirt, he yanked Ninan away from the bed, adding, “You will take your underlings and wait in the hall while Elrond does his work.”

It was difficult for anyone to argue with Glorfindel. The commander was imposing enough in physical appearance, and his insouciant, commanding demeanor disquieted most, but Ninan was determined not to allow harm to come to his liege and he believed, by Legolas’ own words, that Elrond could not be trusted. He had ordered the grief-stricken, deranged Prince to be tied to keep him from injury, after all, and removing the ties, to Ninan, was a sure way to allow Legolas the free reign to become violent once more. Although he made no move to touch Elrond again, he did step back to the bed where the Peredhel sat. “Lord Glorfindel,” the captain of the guard began to argue, “Legolas is our concern. We will deal with him. Lord Elrond, please,” Ninan said fervently, speaking now to the Peredhel, “Kalin should not have asked you to come. Leave Legolas be. He is not your problem, he is ours.”

“All you have managed to do is aggravate his grieving faer. To think that you would be foolish enough to tie him down… if your King was not still asleep, he would cleave your fool head from your shoulders,” Elrond retorted, his words sharp with anxiety and antagonism. He did not bother to look at the Wood-Elves around him as he went on, “And Greenleaf is not a problem, he is your Prince, and though not of my blood, I consider him one of my sons!” the Peredhel exclaimed, his temper flaring at the captain’s disregard for his Prince’s welfare. “If you think I am leaving Greenleaf to your ineptitude any longer, then you are deeply mistaken, Ninan.”

So discomfited was Ninan by Elrond’s aberrant and terrifying wrath that the captain hung his head in mortified confusion, as if he were an Elfling having been scolded – in fact, it seemed much that way for the rest of the Silvan, who felt the fools they had been for binding their grieving Prince. Legolas thought, _Perhaps if they leave, then at least I can die in peace, without the arguing and the sentries’ stares._ The mention of his father being angry at the sentries for their actions made the laegel wish to ease Ninan’s disgrace, though, because he felt that Elrond was wrong. If Thranduil were awake, he would likely have wanted Legolas tied, as well, all the while asking him why he still lived when he should be dead, why he had trusted a human in the first place, and telling him why he deserved the sorrow he’d earned from Estel.

With more kindness than Elrond had shown them, Glorfindel told the Silvan sentries, “Out in the hall, all of you. If you love your Prince, you will cease your bickering,” the commander warned, though he conciliated, “Elrond will see to him, whether you wish it or not, but you know you have no reason to fear for Legolas’ life in Elrond’s care.”

Ninan did not appear ready to comply, at least until Kalin said, “I am not leaving. I am staying with my Prince,” though whether he said this to assure Ninan or to caution Glorfindel that he was not heeding the commander’s demand, he did not make clear. Hesitatingly, Ninan, Oiolaire, and Galendil went to the door, looking back to their Prince on the bed before they walked outside, while Glorfindel followed them out and shut the door behind them, leaving only Elrond and Kalin inside with the laegel.

“What happened that would make you tie him?” the Peredhel asked of Kalin, not once ceasing his efforts to remove the ties upon the Prince. As incompetent as their actions had been in helping him, their knots were devilishly secure, and the thick linen sheet was difficult for the simple dagger to cut through soon enough to suit Elrond. His frustration at being unable to free Legolas quickly was beginning to show on his benevolent face, and his rage from the Silvan’s’ poorly executed attempt to aid the laegel had turned Elrond’s typically soothing voice into one of abnormally seething accusation.

Although Legolas was conscious, his eyes open and aware of what was going on around him, he did not offer to speak nor did he move. Elrond had now managed to remove the binds over the Prince’s chest and set to eliminating the ones that the Wood-Elves had wrapped around his wrists. Their hands upon the Prince’s body had finally quieted the scar, which relieved Legolas of the worst of his misery. He thought, _It will be better to die free of these binds and the scar’s hate._ As intent as he was upon seeing his death through to completion, Legolas did not notice that his irregular, faltering breathing had evened out and the fading refulgence of his faer had slowly regained some luminance.

Shaking his head, Kalin looked to Elrond briefly before resuming his task of cutting the linen, while offering, “I am not entirely sure. After Lord Glorfindel questioned him, he became irate with me. He thinks I have turned against him.” Kalin exhaled in a noisy sob of incredulity, and then told Elrond, “He was upset enough in being questioned, and then foolishly I said that I had a hard time in accepting Estel’s guilt, which he believed meant that I thought him to be a liar.”

His Minyatar did not argue with Kalin over the Ranger’s innocence. It was not the time or place to continue speaking of the human – not with Legolas diminishing right before them. Instead, Elrond queried, “Glorfindel said that Greenleaf’s nose bled while he spoke with him, but this is more than of what he spoke. Did he hit his nose somehow? Ninan said he became violent.”

“The bleeding has not stopped since it began with Lord Glorfindel’s questions, although it had slowed for a while – until we tied him, at least. It then became worse than before.” Throwing aside the strip of cloth he’d finally sawed through to take the next one in hand, Kalin thought for a moment ere he said, “No, he has not injured his nose, or I do not think so. He was not violent, as Ninan has said. He threw a plate and shouted at us to leave him, to let Estel kill him if he wished. It was only because we did not heed his commands that he became angrier. And then Ninan grabbed his arm, which is when Legolas lost his temper completely.”

Elrond was not yet done taking the sentry to task for his carelessness, it seemed, for he reprimanded Kalin, “Ninan should not have tried to subdue him, nor should you have allowed it. He is your Prince first, before he is your friend, and your duty is to protect him. Why in the name of Eru did you tie him?” Elrond charged angrily, his ire at the Wood-Elves’ thoughtlessness not yet abated but seeming to grow. “Kalin, you more than any of the others should have known better. You know that the merchants tied him in Lake-town, and in the woods – and then again this dawn he was tied.”

“Ninan ordered it done,” the Prince’s sentry lamely argued back, although his heart was not in it. Kalin did not need Elrond to tell him that he had failed his Prince in this – letting Ninan’s order trump his Prince’s safety was not one of the sentry’s finer moments. “But you are right. I should not have allowed it. I only feared that Ninan was right and that Legolas was losing his mind to grief. I feared he would injure himself, as he did in Eryn Galen, when he cut his leg to pieces, or that in his desire to die, he would throw himself from the balcony, as Ninan suggested he might.”

At seeing the remorse of his sentry, the Prince wished that he had the will to speak, to comfort Kalin. The sentry’s guilt was now also Legolas’ burden, added to Elrond and Glorfindel’s compunction for having augmented the laegel’s sorrow with their questions. _Kalin was only doing what he thought best,_ he wished to tell Elrond. _I acted like a lunatic and so they treated me as one._

Although Legolas had not said this aloud, his Minyatar seemed to come to a similar conclusion. Seeing how his anger was only breaking the already downtrodden sentry, Elrond quelled his irritation. By way of apology, he told Kalin, “I do not doubt that you have Legolas’ interests and well-being at the foremost of your thoughts and actions. But you must be more careful. Even the slightest provocation may send Greenleaf back into despair, and each time it becomes harder for him to overcome it and return to us.”

Kalin nodded at the counsel, sheathing his dagger now that he had cut free the last tie, and told Elrond while the Peredhel finished unwinding the linen length that had kept Legolas’ hands bound, “He was getting better. And now he is as he was before. No, worse than before, for at least then he had you, Lords Elladan and Elrohir, Estel, and even his father to aid him. Now he has only me, and I fear that I am of little use to him.”

Saying similar to what Glorfindel had told Legolas after questioning the Prince, Elrond countered, “Whether Legolas trusts us or not, I assure you, Kalin, that my family and friends will not rest until we have guaranteed Greenleaf’s safety, his health, and in doing so, find the one responsible for his torment.”

The sentry did not appear entirely placated at this promise, but Kalin did not argue with the Peredhel. “What do we do for him, Lord Elrond?” the sentry asked.

Much like Kalin and Ninan had done before Kalin had left to retrieve Elrond, his Minyatar was speaking to the sentry as if Legolas were not there to hear every word. It did not bother him as much that Elrond did it, however. Just having the elder Elf there soothed the young Elf, just hearing Elrond’s voice uplifted his faer from its murky memories and into the resplendence of fond recollections he had of his Minyatar and second family, and he found that the tightness in his chest, the constriction of his sorrow that had belabored his heart’s beat, was now alleviated, as well. And then, the last strip of linen was off his wrist and he could move his hands – had he the desire or strength to move, that is – but being free to do so was more important than doing so, in this case.

“First, Kalin, we tend his physical wounds.” Taking hold of Legolas’ arm, which laid lifeless in his grasp, Elrond felt for the pulse at the inside of the Prince’s elbow. Satisfied that it was now stronger, the Peredhel inspected the bandaging on the laegel’s forearms, which was soaked through with blood. Elrond gently began to remove the cloth bandaging, saying with a sigh, “Being bound made these wounds and being bound has renewed them.” His Minyatar began to inspect the flesh of the laegel’s forearms before wrapping them again in fresh bandages, asking Kalin, “Are you the one who has been seeing to his injuries?”

“I have changed the bandaging on his wrists, and Faidnil made some ointment to ease the pain of his bruises, which I helped him to spread upon them.” Handing the Peredhel another roll of linen from the nightstand, Kalin set about replacing the bandaging on the other of his Prince’s forearms, admitting to Elrond, “But there is not much that I can do for him. I am no healer. His leg has been cramping, the old injury to his thigh has caused him increasing pain. He has barely been able to walk at times. I do not know enough of herbs to make him something to ease his pain or cease the cramping, and though Faidnil knows a bit, he has been hesitant to give Legolas anything without finding the herbs fresh, but he does not want to leave the King or Prince long enough to find them in the woods.”

Why Faidnil did not wish to use the Peredhel’s store of herbs went unspoken – Faidnil trusted Elrond’s herbs no more than he did the food in the Last Homely House. However, the wounds of which Kalin spoke were not the wounds of which the Peredhel wanted to know. By Estel’s telling just a short while ago of events that occurred earlier during the Ranger’s talk with Legolas, Elrond knew that Kalin was aware of the more insidious maltreatment of his Prince, and so he asked gingerly, “And his other injuries? Have you knowledge of the injuries made by his being raped?”

For the first time since he had ceased fighting against being bound, the Prince moved something other than his eyes. He did so now only so that he could turn his face away from Elrond to hide the sudden flush of his abject humiliation, which Elrond took note of mutely. _Estel has told Elrond of this?_ He could imagine no reason that the Ranger would share this information, since it only seemed damning to the human. _Estel gives me rules by which to play and then breaks them._

Uneasily did the sentry look to Elrond and then to Legolas, who did not return his gaze, so absorbed was he on wondering why the Ranger had told the Elf Lord of his despoilment when he had threatened Legolas not to mention it to anyone. _Kalin overheard me speaking to Estel of this. Perhaps Estel told Elrond to forfend his father finding out from Kalin._ He could think of no other reason for the Ranger to reveal the nadir of the laegel’s devastation.

Like his Prince, Kalin did not know why Elrond would know of the laegel’s intimate mistreatment. Quietly, the sentry admitted, “No, I have not seen to those wounds.” Looking just as ashamed as the Prince felt, which Legolas thought might be because his sentry blamed himself for not keeping his charge safe, Kalin repeated, “I am no healer but I have done what I can. His grief and the scar have returned to him, and I have tried to keep watch, to oppose it when it emerges. It is all that I know to do.”

“Then you have done more for him than I have been able to,” his Minyatar told the sentry as he tucked in the end of the fresh bandaging so that it would not come loose from where it was now wrapped around the Prince’s forearms. “I am certain that Legolas appreciates it. Perhaps it means little to you,” his Minyatar told Kalin, “but I am grateful for your care of Greenleaf, as well. As I said before, he is like a son to me, and if he will not let myself or my other sons near, then I am glad that he has someone to care for him with such devotion as that which you have shown.”

His sentry gave Elrond a bounden smile at the commendation, and then turned to his Prince. Legolas had his face curved away from his Minyatar and toward the sentry, although he was still not looking at his sentry – Kalin’s smile faded at seeing the disconsolateness of the young Elf about whom they spoke. “How did you learn of Legolas’ defilement?” the sentry asked softly, as if he could whisper low enough that his Prince would not hear, and thus not be reminded of his recent degradation.

But of course, this was something that Legolas wanted to know, as well, and their conversation about him while he laid there too exhausted to speak could not have gone unheard by him. The Prince tensed in expectation of Elrond’s response. His Minyatar, who kept his hand upon the laegel at all times, must have noticed this by his grasp of Legolas’ upper arm, for he moved his hand over the young Elf’s chest, upon his heart, as if to forestall the potentially lethal spasms that Legolas had experienced several times over the last day – pangs that stemmed from the supposed sorrowed treachery of his human lover, which had each time almost claimed Legolas’ life.

Elrond answered, “Estel told us, just a short while ago, that he had learnt of this from Legolas this evening. We were discussing Greenleaf and what we could do to aid him when you came to find me.” With a wry frown, Elrond warned the sentry, “He also told us that you nearly killed him when overhearing Legolas accuse him. I love all of my sons – my human just as much as the Elven ones – and I will not lose him to your temper, Kalin. I hope that you will use better restraint in the future.”

He expected his sentry to blush or to admit that he was wrong to have almost slit Estel’s throat because he no longer believed that the Ranger was guilty. However, Kalin surprised his Prince in saying, “I apologize, Lord Elrond, for I was not trying to usurp your right to dole out punishment in your house. As you have said, it is my duty to protect my Prince, and at that moment, protecting Legolas was my only intention.”

The Peredhel seemed troubled by this answer. Legolas, however, pressed his eyes shut in relief. To have his sentry doubt him was terrible enough without having Kalin also side against him with Elrond. Again, his Minyatar changed the topic so that they would not be arguing about the human’s fault in front of the anguished Prince. While inspecting Legolas’ bruised throat, he asked the sentry, “Has he bled much?”

Kalin took hold of Legolas’ hand in both of his own and clasped it in friendly support. “His nose, you mean?” the sentry wondered.

But Elrond spoke of the injuries caused by the Prince’s rape. Although he said nothing to clarify, and though Legolas was still faced away from his Minyatar and did not see what occurred, some unspoken elucidation passed between the sentry and Peredhel such that Kalin then understood what Elrond asked. Once more uneasy to be speaking of this with Legolas lying there listening, a flustered Kalin had to admit, “I do not know, Lord Elrond. It discomforts him enough to speak of it that I have not had the courage to inquire beyond what he has offered to tell me.”

As at ease as he was in Elrond’s presence, if his Minyatar thought to inspect the damage done to him from the mistreatment that Estel had inflicted upon his most private flesh, then the sorrow and anger that had dissipated during Elrond’s compassionate consideration would violently revisit the Prince. However, the Peredhel instead scrutinized the wounds to his head, the bumps caused by his attacker hitting him to quiet him and from where he had hit his head during his and Estel’s struggle, when Legolas had fallen against the chest and then the footboard of the bed.

A knock at the door startled Legolas from his thoughts and Elrond from his examination. Kalin immediately leapt up to answer it. Legolas could hear as Galendil told Kalin, “A she-Elf is here to see you. Faelthîr, she said her name was. I have left her at the end of the hall and told her that you are on duty, but she asked to speak to you for a moment.”

Elrond took a wad of bandaging and dipped it into the glass of water that Legolas had been drinking with his dinner, and began to wash the laegel’s face free of the blood from his nose. Even now, his nose trickled, though it did so less freely than before. The red of his life’s essence covered his face from the nose down, painting his mouth, his lower cheeks, his jaw, and most of his neck. 

“Not now,” his sentry told Galendil. “Send her away,” Kalin ordered and almost shut the door.

However, Elrond cut him off, calling out to Galendil, “Wait! Tell Faelthîr to come to the door. I have need of a healer’s help, and she will do for my purposes.”

“She is livestock healer,” his sentry told the Peredhel, although Elrond most certainly knew that already.

“Yes, and she has knowledge of herbs, which is what I need from her. Unless you think you can identify which herbs to fetch from the apothecary?” Elrond prompted but then did not wait for a reply, since both Elves knew that Kalin could not do so. He said decisively, “Then we send Faelthîr.”

Kalin walked back to his Prince’s bed, the door left open, and he asked, “Can you not go get them, Lord Elrond? I have no wish for anyone else to be witness to my Prince’s condition without Legolas’ permission, and he is not speaking to give it.”

“It will be fine,” his Minyatar told the sentry. At the moment, Legolas’ ambition for living was not yet renewed, but his intention to fade had waned. While he had no wish for Kalin’s new love interest to see him bloodied and bruised and fading in his bed, he also did not wish for Elrond to leave him. The simple comfort of having his Minyatar nearby, along with the similar though less forceful relief of having Kalin at hand once more, was a much-needed lenitive to his grief-hardened desire for death. Elrond well knew how Legolas’ faer was relieved by his merely being there, for he told Kalin, “I am not leaving Greenleaf and I know that none of you know herbs well enough to obtain the correct ones. Faelthîr will suffice.”

Just a second later, the livestock healer arrived in the doorway, confusion tainting her otherwise radiant face. With her dark hair pulled back into a single braid and wearing the trousers and long apron she favored while tending her animal patients, Faelthîr appeared to have come from the stables or barns to see her new lover. When she looked about her for Kalin, Faelthîr startled at seeing the Peredhel and exclaimed quietly, “My Lord Elrond. I did not know you were here. I did not mean to disturb anyone.”

The she-Elf inhaled sharply with surprise. It was then that Legolas knew that she noticed his pitiable condition and likely could sense, just as the other Elves around, how his faer was on the cusp of fumbling its way to the Halls of Awaiting. There was something odd about this situation, as if it had happened before – Faelthîr looking surprised, gasping at noticing him and looking at him in a similar way. He had never been in Faelthîr’s presence before now, he believed, and so disregarded the feeling and turned his attention, though not his gaze, back to Elrond, who had taken to washing the laegel’s neck free of blood.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Prince Legolas,” the she-Elf repeated nervously to the unresponsive laegel, while clasping her hands in the front of her apron. “I only meant to speak to Kalin. I had not seen him since the feast. Is there something I can do to help you, Lord Elrond?”

Faelthîr had wandered farther into the room so that she could take Kalin’s arm. The she-Elf hugged Kalin’s limb to her breast in comfort, which caused his sentry to smile forlornly down at her in besotted gratitude. _Kalin has not had the opportunity to be with Faelthîr much,_ the Prince thought with remorse. _If I were not such a burden to him, he could be enjoying this night with his lover instead of caring for his mad Prince._

Elrond threw the bloodied linen to the nightstand and told her, “I have need of herbs, Faelthîr. The Prince is wounded, as you can well see. Will you fetch them for me?” his Minyatar asked the livestock healer.

His Minyatar stood from the bed and went to the she-Elf, expecting her aid, which she was glad to give, for she agreed at once, saying, “Of course, my Lord. I will gladly obtain whatever herbs you need. And anything else that you require.”

Her willingness to help endeared her to the Prince, and he thought, _Kalin has found his match in goodwill, it would seem, as eager as she is to be of help._ Whether by happenstance or by intent, Elrond drew Faelthîr away from Kalin and the bed and back to the door, then placed her just outside in the hall while he stood in the doorway, blocking her view of the Prince. While she did not gape at him, as had his sentries, it still relieved the laegel to be free of her scrutiny. He needed no more witnesses to his shameful, crippling grief or further ogling of his battered body.

While Elrond listed to the livestock healer the herbs he wanted her to gather, Kalin came to sit by Legolas, to place his hand upon his Prince again, in case the scar was making itself known. For the first time since trying to rouse Legolas before fleeing to get Elrond, Kalin spoke to the young Elf, saying in a whisper with a chagrined grimace, “I am sorry, my Prince, that Faelthîr has shown up unsought. I sent word to her that I could not be disturbed, but she is willful and misses me, I suppose.”

He tried to smile at Kalin. He knew what it was like to be in love and how it felt to be without his Ranger. It had only been a few months of having the human as not just his friend but also his lover, and even now, with Estel his rapist and abuser, he felt the absence of the human with the exactitude as one who had been stabbed might feel emptiness at the removal of the blade. Legolas tried to talk, to assure the sentry that he was glad for Kalin to have found an Elleth, but only managed to sputter more blood out of his mouth and onto his chin, and then found himself in a coughing fit.

“Oh, my Prince, I am tired of seeing blood upon you,” Kalin whispered gloomily, grabbing the already blood soaked linen that Elrond had been using so that he could wipe at the new flow of claret that stained the laegel’s lips. Once this was done, Kalin apologized yet again, keeping his voice low so that the others would not hear him over their own conversation, “I swear to you, I do not doubt you. If you say that Estel is the one who has mistreated you, then your word is all I need to believe it is so.”

Closing his eyes, the laegel breathed in deeply. _Then he has not turned against me,_ the Wood-Elf told himself with replenished hope. _I am not alone._

At seeing his Prince’s closed eyes, Kalin became worried. He took Legolas’ shoulder in hand and shook him lightly, pleading, “No, Legolas. Stay with me. Stay awake. Elrond needs you awake to drink this tea he intends to make for you.”

So heartbroken did his sentry sound that the Prince opened his eyes at once to relieve Kalin’s concern. He could not yet find his voice, but he did manage to move his arm to wrap his fingers around his sentry’s hand. Again, he tried to smile at Kalin, still unaware of how gruesome he looked, but this time, unlike earlier when Kalin had turned away from the tragic sight, the sentry smiled back thankfully.

“You will not send me away, will you, my Prince?” his sentry asked in fretful fear that his Prince might still want him gone. The laegel shook his head, and Kalin grinned widely in relief, though his smile dimmed and then abandoned him when he asked, “You are not upset that I brought Elrond? I could think of nothing else to do. I could not watch you lapse into sorrow.”

Once more, Legolas shook his tired head in negation. He could not be mad at Kalin for bringing Elrond to him. Had not the Peredhel come, the Prince would now be dead, Legolas felt sure. Besides, now that the laegel found he did not care if he lived or died, he would enjoy whatever comfort he could find before his end, and though it was postponed for now, Legolas was certain that it would come still. With great effort, he picked up Kalin’s hand from his shoulder and within his own hand brought it to his chest, where he laid it over his overstressed heart. He finally managed to speak, telling Kalin, “You have saved my life.”

The sentry’s ageless face broke into one of momentary wretchedness, before it cleared again to one of resolute devotement, and the faithful Wood-Elf told his liege, “Whatever is necessary, my Prince. I will do whatever is necessary to get our King, our people, and you safely from Imladris and back to the great forest.”

Legolas had not the strength or will to reply, and was given no chance for either, anyway, as Elrond had finished reciting his list of items that he needed. Faelthîr dutifully told the Peredhel, “I will get them and return at once, Lord Elrond.”

She then hurried away with the great purpose of aiding the Lord of the household. Before she had made it from the hall and before Elrond had returned to the laegel’s bedside, Ninan marched back into the room so that he could argue to Kalin, while Glorfindel followed on his heels in case the captain of the guard should forget his manners. The captain told his underling, “I know that you share her bed, Kalin, but trusting her not to smother you in your sleep is not the same as trusting her with our Prince’s life. With our King having been poisoned, are we supposed to rely upon this she-Elf to give herbs to our Prince?”

Kalin had only met Faelthîr a few days ago, so perhaps he trusted the she-Elf more quickly than he ought to have, given that she was now obtaining herbs for the Prince, but it had been Elrond’s idea to send her for them, not Kalin’s idea. Still, the laegel saw his sentry’s flash of anger at having his lover questioned, but Kalin was not wont to argue with his superior – except for Legolas, or so it seemed from recent times.

“I will brew enough tea for two, with Kalin watching the whole process, and drink it with your Prince, if that eases your mind,” Elrond offered agreeably. At this point, his Minyatar would have been willing to do most anything to help his Silvan son. If Legolas had needed stitches and Ninan had complained about the possibility of poisoned thread, Elrond would have sewn the gut into his own flesh just to show the sentry that the thread was fine and that he meant Legolas no harm. Indeed, this pacified Ninan, who grudgingly nodded his assent to Elrond’s suggestion and with Glorfindel walked back out to the hallway.

Legolas’ despondency was declining. Having his Minyatar nearby had done exactly as Elrond had known it would – it had brought the laegel from his despair because he had felt the unconditional love and fatherly devotion that the Peredhel held for him. His sentries could not do this for him. Elrohir, Elladan, and Estel’s presence would have had a similar effect prior to his losing trust in them. Even Kalin’s company usually did something comparable for the Prince, but given that he had felt betrayed by the sentry for questioning the human’s guilt, Kalin had been unable to pull his Prince from his horrid thoughts, which is why Kalin had sought out Elrond. Now that the two Wood-Elves had sorted out the misapprehension, Kalin’s presence was once more palliative to the Prince.

The laegel decided, newly resolute in purpose to see through his duty, _I can last a while longer. I can wait until Ada is home before I fade._

His will to endure improved, Legolas desired to sit. Lying down made it hard to breathe, for the blood in his throat and mouth, the injury to his chest, and the ignominy of being abed when there were others moving about around him only evinced how weak and useless he felt. Although his injuries were no worse, and thus his body no more battered than before, Legolas could not manage to slide himself up the bed to lean against the headboard. In seeing the Wood-Elf’s attempt, his Minyatar moved to aid him in sitting up, but Kalin hurried to take over the task ere Elrond could get his hands on Legolas.

“Are you still afraid I will hurt him, Kalin?” the elder Elf asked in frustration as he stepped back from Kalin’s way. Elrond had clearly had enough suspicion and distrust from the Wood-Elves, especially Kalin, since he had been the one to fetch Elrond for the very purpose of helping the Prince.

Kalin sat back down upon the edge of the bed once he had his Prince settled against the pillows behind his back, saying, “No, Lord Elrond. I was afraid he might hurt you out of mistrust caused by his sorrow.” The sentry turned to Legolas with a pinked face as he recalled that the Prince about whom he spoke was very aware of what was being said. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

His Minyatar’s irritation softened, much like his face, until both were only worried kindness once more. “No matter how our Greenleaf has suffered, I trust him not to hurt me,” Elrond told Kalin with all certainty.

First, the elder Elf shut the door to the bedroom, leaving the laegel and his sentry alone with Elrond. The Peredhel then slid onto the bed next to where Kalin had sat his Prince up against the headboard. Grabbing another pillow, Elrond placed it behind him to cushion his back and then held his arms out for Legolas to enter them. He did not have to wait but a second before the laegel most willingly pressed himself into his Minyatar’s body. As he might have when the Prince was but a child, Elrond embraced Legolas snugly, holding the Wood-Elf’s head against his torso with one hand while the other arm he wrapped over the young Elf’s shoulders, such that the Silvan could rest in Elrond’s fatherly affection with Legolas’ chest pushed tightly against Elrond’ side.

Perhaps he should have felt childish for needing such comfort, or from obtaining it in view of Kalin, but the worry worn Prince found that he did not mind. Even though he was way past his Elfling years, Legolas would never be too old for his Minyatar’s soothing, paternal love. Even his dormant instructions from Mithfindl and the compelling periapt could not keep him from Elrond this night.

Speaking to Legolas for the first time since coming to aid him, Elrond said with the same graceful, caring smile that he often wore while speaking to his children, “I am here, ion nin. I am here. You are not alone, my Greenleaf.”


	35. Chapter 35

The study was silent once more, the three Elves and one Ranger each keeping to his own thoughts while they awaited news of Legolas. In the same chair where he had earlier sat during their meeting concerning Legolas, Erestor had taken to leafing through his book again in hopes of gleaning some information on how to combat bewitchment the likes under which they believed Legolas to be enthralled. Even without proof that their theory was correct, the advisor was intent on learning what he could of ensorcelled objects. Should they find that Legolas was beholden to a charm of this sort and depending on the charm and how it had been used, there might be dire consequences should it be removed from the Prince’s person. For now, Aragorn left the worry over these consequences and the attainment of knowledge about them to Erestor. He could not have sat still to study any book or scroll. Besides, if anyone could learn enough about such items to aid Legolas and render the periapt useless, it would be Erestor or his father. He would worry about the enthrallment of the Wood-Elf once he was assured that Legolas was alive.

 _Surely, Glorfindel will send someone to tell us how Greenleaf is doing._ Since the commander had gone downstairs with Elrond, it had occurred to the Ranger that because Glorfindel would not leave Elrond alone with the Wood-Elves out of fear for the Peredhel’s safety, the commander would not be able to bring word of Legolas. _Maybe he will send one of Thranduil or Legolas’ sentries to give us news,_ he hoped, although he realized that the Silvan might not want to share details of their Prince’s suffering with the human who they believed had caused said suffering.

The twins were off to the side, having one of their nonverbal conversations while they picked up the mess that their Ada had earlier made. The ancient books were sat back upon the desk, the scrolls that could be salvaged were rerolled and stacked neatly on a nearby chair, and the quills replaced in their jar. The worst of the mess – an inkpot that had shattered against the floor, having sprayed dark liquid all over nearby shelves and the floor – the twins had taken to mopping up with old rags that they had found amidst the gardening supplies from one of the alcoves along the terraces where the Peredhel kept his private garden of herbs and flowers in pots and stone trenches. It was proving a futile task, but neither twin wished to leave the room to find soap with which to wash the ink from the shelves and floor. They cleaned because it distracted them.

Being that Estel could not be part of his twin brothers’ intuitive communication, he instead took to pacing the floor. He did not stop at wandering through the area just in front and around his father’s desk, but walked throughout the entirety of the massive study. Aisles upon aisles of shelves holding tomes, scrolls, and myriad items did he walk through, ambling aimlessly but purposefully staying within earshot of the entrance to the study just in case they should call out if word came of Greenleaf.

 _I cannot bear waiting around for something to happen. Legolas could be dead right now and I would not know it._ Kalin had appeared at the door so frightened and sorrowful that the Ranger imagined that Legolas must have been in an appalling condition for the sentry to have lost his composure. He slowed his walking to inspect a shelf of what at first seemed to be junk. Stopping fully, the human then noted that many of the items were keepsakes of sorts. On the shelves were tokens of Elrond’s family – a small, wooden embroidery loop that had once been Celebrian’s, a dagger that had been carved from oak that Estel knew to have been given to his Ada by Elladan when his brother was but an Elfling, a similar carved slingshot with which Elrohir had practiced his aim long before he could pull back the string on a bow, a pewter figurine of a Dwarf that a visiting Firebeard had given Arwen and she had given Estel to play with when he was a toddler, and on a saucer, in innumerable fragments, there sat the shards of a green marble. Not knowing its origin, the Ranger might have been pleased to know that it had once belonged to Legolas when the Wood-Elf had been an Elfling, and would have reminded the Prince of fond memories of playing stones with the twins.

 _It is the marble I let fall._ Months ago, when bringing Legolas to Imladris after they had been attacked in the woods outside Lake-town, the Ranger had been rolling this very marble across his father’s desk when he had dropped it, causing the leaf-colored glass bauble to break upon the floor. With the tip of one finger, the Adan pushed around the very sharp, scintillating shards of the marble, thinking, _When I tried to clean it up, Ada said that he would try to pick up the pieces. He spoke of Legolas, not this marble, but they might as well be the same, for both are still shattered and likely impossible to rejoin to be made whole again._

He began his pacing anew, the memory of the marble and that night only increasing his worry. He did not want to think of Legolas as broken beyond repair. He had promised the Wood-Elf Prince that he would not forsake him, despite what Legolas considered to be grief-born insanity standing between their having the most normal life together a man and Elf could hope for, and he would try his best to keep that promise. He still wanted the Prince, even if Legolas no longer wanted him.

_This is as bad as awaiting word from Legolas when we left him in Eryn Galen, after I forced him from his disconnection._

He concocted a fanciful fiction in his mind, imagining that he might feel the Wood-Elf should he pass, so that he might soothe himself that Legolas had not died this night because he had not felt it happen. However, Estel was not an Elf and he and Legolas were not bonded in the manner of the Eldar. If Legolas had given in to his sorrow, released his faer, and left them with a cooling corpse, then the human would have no knowledge of it until someone found time to tell him.

He turned a random corner, his eyes on the tiles of the floor, and was set to walk down another aisle of shelves when Elladan grabbed his arm and pulled him through to one of the small nooks in which a couch and a writing table were ensconced. “A moment, brother,” Elladan said in little more than a whisper.

True to his word, Estel had to wait only a moment before Elrohir joined them, having arrived from a different direction than his twin. The younger of the two Elves first looked back over his shoulder at where Erestor sat engrossed in his tome. “Have you told him?” Elrohir asked his identical half.

Elladan looked back to Erestor as his brother had, replying, “I have not: I was waiting for you.”

He had yet to speak to his Elven brothers about their endeavor to find and follow Mithfindl in order to keep tabs on what he was up to, so guessed that this is about what they wanted to speak. They had hid their intention from Elrond, as their father would not like the artifice of spying in his house, and they now hid this from Erestor, who was a friend to Thialid, Mithfindl’s father, because they were unsure of how Erestor would react should he become aware of their suspicions of Mithfindl. Additionally, it was likely that the advisor would relate their spying to Elrond, and the twins did not yet want their father to put a stop to it. They hoped to allay their Ada’s anger over their actions by having evidence against Mithfindl, for all three brothers shared the same certainty that the Noldorin warrior was the Prince’s assailant.

Elrohir told the Ranger, “As it turns out, Mithfindl was indeed in his rooms last night when we went knocking on his door, even though he didn’t answer. Perhaps he slept, but more likely, he heard us outside talking, knew that it was us who looked for him, and wanting to avoid us and regardless of whether he is involved in Greenleaf’s suffering, he chose not to open the door. We know he was in there last night because we waited outside his room from that moment on – none entered or left until we saw him leave just past dawn to break his fast with his patrol in the barracks.”

Here, Elrohir paused to look back at Erestor. The advisor had not moved except to turn the page with one long fingered hand. Appeased that Erestor had not yet noticed their absence, the younger twin went on to say, “Since this morning, we have followed Mithfindl all day, as we planned, and when not feasible, we have had others do it for us, as they are doing even now, which is also as we planned.”

Expecting some news that would facilitate finding out what was happening to Legolas, the Ranger’s optimism rekindled but was soon doused when Elladan told him, “Mithfindl has done what he does most every day that he is in the House and not on the border or in his father’s house. This morning, he was on the training fields with the other warriors. After that, he spent time in his rooms, alone, and then this evening, before dark, he was again on the fields. We’ve been in here since leaving him at the fields for the archery practice that Raveara was putting the young ones through, but we will find out where he was and what he has been doing once we hear of Legolas. Someone will keep watch over him during the night, as well, to see if he remains in his rooms.”

Stopping as had his brother to look in Erestor’s direction, to be certain that the advisor was still immersed in his study, Elladan complained, “I had hoped to keep tabs on him myself overnight, but at this rate, we will not soon learn how our Greenleaf fares, and I am not leaving until I know.”

 _I would that one of the twins kept watch over Mithfindl during the night, as well, because so far, all the trouble that has been stirred has been while Ithil travels across the sky,_ the Ranger contemplated of Mithfindl’s non-aberrant actions. As it concerned Legolas and his father, nothing of import had happened during the daylight hours thus far – or at least, nothing of which they knew. The King’s poisoning and Legolas’ first set of bruises had both occurred the first night, and the second night, the Prince had been beaten and ravaged during predawn hours. _If the pattern holds, something ill will happen tonight,_ he thought, and then wished that he hadn’t, for if something ill happening meant that Legolas might not live to see another sunrise, then he did not wish to be correct about his presumption.

He turned to look out at the night sky through the open terrace behind him, rubbing the stubble upon his face while he contemplated his brothers’ unexciting news. The waning moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making the sky dark and cheerless, just like the ambience of the Last Homely House these past few days for Elrond’s family and friends. Finding it hard to accept that their suspicion of Mithfindl had panned out nothing, he asked, “He hasn’t done anything that would seem out of place?”

“He has spent most all his time with the other warriors. It was impossibly easy to track his every movement, and I cannot imagine that he knew he was being watched.” Elladan joined his human brother in looking out over the valley, which was cast into obscure glooms with the stars hidden behind clouds that were gravid with unfallen rain. “I personally saw him in the hall of fire eating dinner, at one point, where he actually seemed to be smiling and enjoying himself, which was strange in and of itself, but other than his abnormally good mood, he seemed the same Mithfindl.”

“I lost track of his activities for about an hour, to be honest,” Elrohir complained, turning as both his brothers had towards the dark and darkening sky beyond the portico. “After trailing him to the fields, before Elladan took over following him for me, he went to the stables and stayed there for over an hour today. I couldn’t get close enough to find out what he was doing inside, because he would have seen me had I just walked in without knowing where inside he was, but several of his father’s horses are stabled here, so he was likely only passing the time in seeing to their upkeep,” Elrohir explicated with a shrug of one broad shoulder. “Apparently, he leads a boring, solitary life.”

“What are you whispering about?” the sudden question came from behind them. All three brothers turned quickly, with each of them feeling as if they were an Elfling – or in Estel’s case, a precocious human toddler – who had been caught doing something naughty. Erestor had snuck up on them when they had been gone too long for his liking.

The twins looked to each other, as if wondering how much to admit to Erestor of what they had been doing, but the Ranger could tell that Erestor had already heard part of their conversation and wanted only to see if they would speak truthfully to him, so immediately answered, “My brothers have been following Mithfindl since this morning, or if they could not, they have had others do it for them, so that we may eliminate his involvement in Legolas’ suffering or prove that he is involved.”

Both twins gave the Ranger identical, scathing glares for sharing that information so willingly. Elladan tried to explain to Erestor, “I know that we have no evidence as of yet for believing him to be the root of this evil, but – ”

“ – he is the only one we could think of who would desire to hurt Legolas for his own cruel pleasure,” Elrohir finished. The twins looked to the advisor, who had been one of their teachers in their younger years and held the same authority over them as if they were pupils still.

Erestor walked closer to them, his long ivory robe a stark contrast to his jet-black hair and dark grey eyes, to ask, “I thought Elrond told me that he asked the Prince of this. Did not Legolas say that it was not Mithfindl? That he had not seen Mithfindl except from afar?”

A welcome wind blew through the terrace. A summer storm loomed in the distance, as it was that time of year for them in the valley, and though it didn’t seem that the rain would fall on Rivendell tonight, the cool air it brought was just as pleasing. The zephyr lifted the Ranger’s sweat damp hair from his head. He had barely eaten, not bathed, and had no sleep since the night of the feast, and the cool air was refreshing to his tired mind and body.

Elrohir was nodding at Erestor eagerly, as if only waiting for Erestor to quit talking so that he could finish explaining. “Yes, and he also says that Estel is the cause of his misery. He believes it without doubt,” the younger twin told the advisor.

Just as eager to expound upon their theory, the elder twin concluded, “So who is to say that Legolas even knows that he lies when he says that it is not Mithfindl? If his mind is enthralled, as you, Ada, and Glorfindel believe, then it could be Mithfindl as it could be anyone.”

Reaffirming what Elrohir had said moments ago, the Ranger told Erestor, “And Mithfindl is the only one we can think of in the whole of Imladris who might go to such lengths to cause Greenleaf’s suffering, rather than just kill him.”

For a moment, the dark haired advisor’s brow furrowed as he considered this, and at first, Estel thought that Erestor would refute their logic, but instead, he nodded his head and told them, “I am glad you have thought to do so. After Glorfindel told me of Mithfindl trying to weasel his way into Thranduil’s good graces as they escorted the Wood-Elves to the valley, I have suspected that Mithfindl would further try to gain favor with Thranduil somehow. I would not have expected treachery such as what is occurring now, but as much as Mithfindl hates Estel, he might be taking his revenge against Estel through Legolas.” Erestor’s dark hair blew out around him in the cool breeze, causing the advisor to gather it behind his ears. “I take it that you found nothing of significance in his whereabouts today, else your father would already know of this.”

While his brothers repeated to Erestor what they had just told him of Mithfindl’s tedious day, the human ruminated in stunned silence, _As much as Mithfindl hates me? If Mithfindl is the one who has done this to Greenleaf, has he done it solely out of animosity for me? Has Legolas been beaten, nearly killed, and raped as a means for Mithfindl to exact revenge against me?_

Until now, the Ranger had not thought of the vile Noldo’s potential actions as such. Mithfindl had never been fond of Legolas being that the warrior was an obnoxious, pompous Elf who thought the Mirkwood Elves to be barbaric, untamed animals. He did not consider the Wood-Elves of Greenwood to be as intelligent or noble as the Elves of Imladris. Long before Estel came to be fostered in Imladris, the silver-haired Noldorin warrior had looked down upon the Prince and his people, and thus had disapproved of the twins’ friendship with Legolas, as if their friendship reflected poorly upon the rest of the Elves in the valley. Very few of the Noldor in Rivendell desired to befriend Mithfindl – most endured his company because his wealthy father was an important advisor to Elrond – and as Glorfindel had told Estel, now that his reputation was tarnished from having been beaten by a human, even fewer of the Noldor cared to associate with him.

That day in the forest, when Mithfindl had accosted Legolas, according to the Prince and Glorfindel’s account, he had been acting unkindly but not with true intent to harm. The warrior had not known of Legolas’ abuse at the hands of the humans, just that Legolas had taken Aragorn as his lover. In fact, Mithfindl had mistreated the Prince only insofar as the Silvan allowed it, and perhaps even encouraged it because the pain inflicted upon him had silenced the scar’s voice. Legolas’ desire for the ablutionary discomfort that Mithfindl’s actions wrought had caused him to capitulate to the Noldo’s painful attentions. Legolas had shown the Noldo that he was desirous of the agony that Mithfindl caused, and the warrior had been willing to give it to Legolas. Truly, Estel had taken out his aggression, frustration, and anger on Mithfindl when the Noldorin warrior had only been guilty of being debauched. Mithfindl had been given no reason by Legolas to think that the Prince did not desire what he did to him – at least, not until the end, when Mithfindl had made some comment about Estel that had roused Legolas from his disconnection. It wasn’t until later, on their way to Mirkwood, that Aragorn had learnt that Legolas had tried to fight Mithfindl off him, so he had not even that information on which to forgive his actions in attacking the Noldorin warrior.

That day on the fields, Estel had only meant to menace Mithfindl, to gain information about what Legolas had allowed to happen in the woods. Mithfindl had taunted the Ranger that day, causing Aragorn to lose his temper, but even the insults that Mithfindl had made were made without the knowledge of what Legolas had suffered. He had spoken half-truths and insults that would have meant nothing, had they not held a latent meaning that to his credit, Mithfindl had held no knowledge of, though he must certainly know of Legolas’ travails now. He had asked the Ranger for how many humans Legolas had spread his legs, and how many it had taken to break in the laegel and turn Legolas into a whore desiring of the pain Mithfindl had not minded to give him. He had told Greenleaf how shameful it was that he chose to bed a mortal. Overall, that day in the forest, Mithfindl had honestly believed that since Legolas was disgusting enough to debase himself by taking Estel as his lover, he would willingly lay with Mithfindl, as well. The Noldorin warrior had honestly seemed to believe that his choosing Estel as his mate meant that the Wood-Elf would be willing to whore himself to anyone. As skewed as this view was – for Mithfindl was a crass and perverse idiot – Legolas had submitted to Mithfindl at first, giving the Noldo no reason to think otherwise.

Moreover, it had not been a fair fight. The twins had subdued Mithfindl, Estel had taken him by surprise, and the three brothers had fled the fields, giving the Noldorin warrior no chance for retaliation. After that, Estel had felt guilty for his actions, but had he offered an apology to Mithfindl? Of course not. From the time that they had left Imladris for Eryn Galen, their stay in Mirkwood, through the period when the twins, Glorfindel, and Ranger had returned from Eryn Galen without Legolas, and up until the point where Kalin had told Estel that Thranduil and thus Mithfindl were on their way to the valley, the human had not given Mithfindl but the most fleeting of thoughts. He had not seen him, had not thought of him, and had not considered what his actions on the training fields that day might have done to Mithfindl. Even the Noldo’s own father had turned against him, for Glorfindel had told the Ranger that Lord Thialid, learning from Erestor how his son had accosted the Prince in the forest, had begged Mithfindl to sail, to relieve him and their family of the shame his action had brought.

_I broke his nose for his trespasses, but Mithfindl did not even know why his actions were so cruel. If anything and if Mithfindl is the one who has done this, I am the culprit regardless, for setting into motion these events with my own foolish actions._

“Estel?” Erestor intoned, laying his hand upon the Ranger’s shoulder to pull him from his thoughts. “What troubles you?”

His dismay had caused him to lose track of their conversation and they looked at him with concern, for his distress was evident in his pale and vexed features. He turned his face back to the cool wind blowing around them. “Nothing. I only worry,” he lied. He did not want to listen to their comforting words of how none of this was his fault, and he was certain that if he expressed his worry that his childish thrashing of Mithfindl might have incited the Noldorin warrior into seeking to ravage and break their Greenleaf in an attempt to punish the Ranger, they would try to change his perception of the matter.

“You need rest, brother,” Elrohir told him, laying his hand on the other of the human’s shoulders. “When last did you sleep?”

“The night of the feast.” Shrugging off their worry by shrugging their hands off his shoulders, he told them, “I will try to sleep for a while tonight, perhaps, if we soon find out how Legolas is doing.”

“Why do you not go downstairs to the hallway and ask for Glorfindel, Elladan? Find out from him how the Prince is faring then bring word back to your brothers,” the advisor suggested. Erestor motioned them to follow, and they did, trailing behind him back to the front of the study. He told the Ranger, “Then perhaps you can rest, Estel, while your brothers seek information on the items that Lord Elrond and I listed for them earlier. If we can find out how Legolas has been convinced that you are his attacker, we can work out how to counteract it. For the Prince’s sake, the sooner he knows that you have not betrayed him, the sooner his faer will be free of the added grief that believing so has caused.”

They had reached the door to the study ere Aragorn told them, “That is a fine idea, except that I am not resting just yet. Glorfindel told us where Greenleaf was attacked, and I, for one, want to see this room. There may be some sign or clue within that would incriminate Legolas’ assailant.”

The twins were nodding their head in agreement, although Erestor did not seem pleased that the human was not agreeing to find rest. “Yes,” the elder twin told his younger, saying, “in fact, let us start in the library, so that first we can help Estel search this room. I wish to see it for myself.”

Elrohir was just as impatient to go, and he opened the door with an eager nod. The twins made haste down the long hall towards the stairs that would lead them down to the family hall, and thus to find out from Glorfindel how their Silvan friend was doing. The Ranger made to join them, but putting his hand out, Erestor stopped the human to tell him plaintively, “Estel, I am sorry.”

“For what?” he asked in confusion.

Looking past Estel to the study beyond him as if looking back in time itself, the advisor only replied, “It is difficult to find love, only to be beset on all sides for its end.”

The Ranger knew nothing of Glorfindel and Erestor’s love affair, except that they wished it to be kept secret. The sadness on the advisor’s face told him that Erestor spoke from experience, though, and he wished he had the time to find out from the advisor why this was so. But already Erestor was back in the present moment, and he provoked Estel, saying, “Go. Your brothers are waiting.”

He left off, determined one day to learn what Erestor meant. The advisor had shut the door behind the human, cutting off the light from the study, which made the fireplace’s emanation coming from the opened apothecary door all the brighter. Normally, the door was kept shut at all times, so Estel assumed that the twins had gone within the apothecary. He meant to call out to find out why his brothers had gone inside the storeroom for herbs and tinctures, but then saw that his Elven brothers were still in the hall though they were pressed up against the wall, in the shadows. In fact, Elladan had stopped dead in his tracks, his hand held up to stop his brethren’s approach. Having made no sound as they walked down the hall, the twins were quieter still as they advanced along the wall to the door to the apothecary. The Ranger remained where he was, not breathing any more than necessary, lest he make a noise. He had no idea what had prompted his brothers to begin stalking in the middle of the hall, but years of travelling with them, Legolas, and with the Dúnedain had instilled in Aragorn the ability to be as quiet and stealthy as a thief – an Elven thief, perhaps, which as it happened was exactly who the twins were watching from the hall through the opened door, though Estel did not yet know it.

Finally, Elladan had seen something from his vantage point that prompted him to push the door open wider, which caused the person within to cry out softly in surprise. Impatient to see what was going on, the Ranger flew to the apothecary door, where within he found his twin brothers and a very surprised Faelthîr.

“By Ilúvatar, my Lords,” she said breathlessly, looking between the three brothers with wide eyes and a hand held to her stomach to calm her breathing. “You have frightened me.”

“I am sorry,” Elladan replied, though he sounded anything but. The twins walked close to her. “I did not mean to startle you.”

When the three brothers only stared at her, offering no explanation for why they had startled her, Faelthîr cleared her throat uncomfortably and turned back to placing the herbs on a tray. Realizing that her presence here was not expected, the livestock healer explained, “Lord Elrond sent me to fetch herbs for the Prince.”

“Legolas?” the Ranger asked, coming farther into the room with his brothers. If she had news of the laegel, he would hear of it. “You have seen Legolas?”

“Yes,” she told him, though she found somewhere else to look rather than at any of the three brothers while she put the last of her items on the tray. “I was trying to find Kalin and went to the Prince’s room to see if he was there, which is when Lord Elrond enlisted my aid to obtain herbs for the Prince. From the herbs he sent me for, it seems that Prince Legolas’ wounded thigh is cramping and causing him pain.”

It seemed a plausible story because it would be easy for the three brothers to ask their father if it were true; however, the she-Elf had the appearance of an Elfling whose hand had been caught in the sweets jar. Estel would not have guessed why this was so until Elladan, who had been spying on her when the others were too far away from the door and had thus seen what they had not, asked Faelthîr bluntly, “And the milk of the poppy? Did my father ask you to fetch it, as well?”

Her eyes became guarded and she turned her face away to the long counter before her. Picking up an empty phial that someone had left on the countertop, the she-Elf placed it in the wicker bin where other empty phials were awaiting washing and refilling. “The Prince is in pain.”

The human wondered, _Legolas would not ask for the milk of the poppy. Even in the Greenwood, when he had sliced the meat of his thigh nearly from the bone, so that he would not be numbed by it he refused the Silvan healers when they tried to give it to him. But perhaps Ada has deemed it necessary._

“So much pain that he requires two phials?” Elladan asked. Although the twins were not being unkind, their curious distrust was evident to Faelthîr, who was becoming more agitated the longer they delayed her. “If he took that much he’d sleep for days.”

Like a strike of lightening, a flash of brilliance erupted in the Ranger’s head. To himself, he repeated Elladan’s words; _It is enough milk of the poppy to make him sleep for days._

“I only thought to bring Prince Legolas enough that your father would not need to send for more. The Prince is in pain,” she repeated with a tense smile. “I am sorry, my Lords, but Lord Elrond is waiting. I should not keep him guessing where I am,” she told them, picking up two empty cups to place on her tray, as well. Also on the tray, there lay an empty mithril tea ball and herbs that were all easily identifiable – Estel noticed that what she had not placed on the tray were the phials of the painkilling milk of the poppy that Elladan had noted her taking. Those she had hidden in her apron’s pocket.

Elladan swept his arm out to urge her on, “Let us not keep you, then.”

With that, the she-Elf was gone. She walked so quickly that she was nearly sprinting down the hall and to the steps to the family hall below. Estel could hear the cups rattling on the tray and thought, _It will be a wonder if she makes it to Legolas’ room without everything on her tray jittering off to the floor_.

“That is odd,” Elladan told his brothers. He leant his rear against the table behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. “When I noticed her in here taking the phials, I thought she might be one of those unfortunates who become too attached to the milk of the poppy, and thought she might be in here trying to obtain more. But then she took the other herbs, as well, and I wondered why she came here for medicines when the stable has its own storeroom of herbs.”

“Well, since Ada sent her, it isn’t so odd, after all. We should have asked more of how Legolas is doing, although at least we now know that our Greenleaf is still alive, and conscious, also, if he can drink medicines that Ada is brewing,” Elrohir complained, saying, “Glorfindel will not have the knowledge that she has to tell us exactly what is wrong with him. He should have sent one of the Silvan sentries up here to tell us how our Wood-Elf brother was doing long ago, anyway.” The younger twin copied his brother’s position against the table, while Estel stayed by the door, inadvertently ignoring them while he thought.

“Since we are here, we might as well search the apothecary for any missing items,” Elladan suggested, motioning for his twin to open the locked cabinet for which Elrohir had been given the key by Elrond. The twins had already dismissed Faelthîr and their conversation with her. The she-Elf had been on their father’s task, after all, and they had no reason to suspect her of anything more. “Now that we know Legolas lives, let us go about our tasks. We will stop by his rooms once we are done to find out if he improves.”

Estel and Elrohir nodded their concurrence. The Ranger sat on the bench that lined the room and laid his head back against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes, thinking, _If I had time for just a short nap, perhaps I could clear my mind to think this through properly._ The answer was there, the Ranger felt, and if he weren’t so exhausted and distracted with worry over Legolas, he might be able to find it.

Soon enough, Elladan and Elrohir were locking the cabinet, their task completed. “Well,” the elder twin said, dusting off his hands onto the front of his tunic, “they are all accounted for. Let us go to the library and this room of which Glorfindel told us.”


	36. Chapter 36

While the twins were in the library, checking on the items that their father had enlisted them to ascertain were still safeguarded, the Ranger finally found the room of which Glorfindel had told them. It had taken Estel twice walking through the hall before he saw the simple wooden door under the stairs. Unlike Legolas or the twins or some of the other Elves who had grown up from Elflings in the Last Homely House, Estel had spent most of his younger years out of the house with his much older brothers. He had not played hide and seek and did not know every door, as did they.

The bedimmed and dusty doorway opened onto a similar disused and musty room. He left the door open when he walked inside, as there was no window to give light. He had not brought a lamp or candle, but at cursory glance, there was no purpose to this room currently, if there had ever been one before. Other than a broken chair, there was no furniture in the room, either, and the whole of the room was cast into deep shadows.

 _I must have light,_ he told himself, closing the door and making his way to the library’s entrance with haste. Located just inside the door, as there was inside each door to the massive repository of lore, there sat a table on which a lit oil lamp resided, with candles and other lamps at ready for anyone who wished to peruse the library at night. Taking one of the handled lamps, the Ranger lit its wick, left the library, and then hurried back to the staircase’s hidden room. Just as he opened the door again, the twins appeared from around the corner, having finished their search for the items that their father had told them of in the library’s storage area.

Without being asked, Elrohir related to the human as they approached, “All is accounted for there, as well.”

“Leaving just the stables,” Elladan commented, adding, “although I begin to think that if there is indeed some charm upon Legolas, it did not come from the Last Homely House.”

Regardless, the twins would look in the stables, the Ranger knew, for they had been tasked by their father to do so. He did not comment on their lack of findings, but looked into the room of which Legolas had spoken – the room where the Prince had been bound, beaten, and ravaged. Before they entered, the three brothers stood at the doorway, as if troubled by what they might find within the small storage room. Elladan asked Estel, “Have you already looked inside?”

“No,” he told them, “I went back for a lantern. It took me a while to find the door to begin.”

As eager as he was to explore, to find proof that might implicate the culprit behind Legolas’ assailment, the Ranger did not want to see the evidence of his lover’s torment. It did not stop him from entering, though, and the human was the first to walk through the door, his lamp held out to guide the way. His Elven brothers did not need the illumination of the lamp as much as did he, but still, the trio walked together with the lantern before them, discovering together each sign of the violence that had occurred to their friend. The first thing that Aragorn noted was rope, pieces of which were soaked in blood – Legolas’ blood, Estel surmised – that were scattered on the floor. His father had said that he thought the rope to be the same as the kind used in baling hay; from what the Ranger could tell, it seemed that Elrond was right.

The twine was used for baling hay, yes, but also for securing kegs and barrels, was implemented in sheaving wheat, tying herbs from the ceiling to dry, and many other purposes that did not require finely made rope, such as the kind used to secure blankets and chattel to the horses where coarse rope would irritate the beast’s flesh. _It can be found in the fields, the stables, or even in the house, in the apothecary, the kitchens. Anyone might have obtained such rope,_ he dismissed, thinking that there was little that this finding could tell him, other than his seeing from the amount of blood upon the twine that Legolas had fought against his binds with all his force, or that great force had been placed upon the binds to cause such bleeding.

Elladan stopped to inspect some of the rope, although Elrohir moved on with Estel to a stone pillar near to the inner wall. Here, the two stopped, while the Ranger picked up a wad of cloth. Seeing it, Elrohir told them, “It is the missing piece of Legolas’ undershirt. Ada told us that it was torn, did he not?”

“And it has been used to gag Legolas, just as Ada suggested.” Estel found that a similar piece of the same cloth was nearby, though this one was long and bloodied along its center – it had been the tether by which the Wood-Elf’s head had been yanked. The Ranger did not need to be told how it had been used. He had been witness to Legolas’ ravishment at the hands of Cort and Sven, when the two merchants had spitted the Wood-Elf from front and back for their sick pleasure. The merchants had used a rope around Legolas’ neck, rather than a bit and rein around his face, but the use was the same – to control their victim and keep him quiet at the same time. Aragorn could not tell his brothers this, for he could not bear to speak aloud the details of Legolas’ defilement. He told them instead, “This is of little use, either, since Legolas brought it with him, being that he was wearing it. I was hoping to find something that belonged to his attacker.”

Neither of his Elven brothers responded, though they all continued to look. Dried blood droplets were scattered over the floor. In one spot in particular, it seemed that Legolas had spit or coughed blood out of his mouth and onto the floor, as the claret was mixed with saliva, all of which was now dried upon the stone. In addition to upon the floor underneath them, they found the laegel’s essence on the wall, as well, where several golden hairs were stuck within the blood.

“This must be how he gained the contusion to his forehead,” Elladan correctly inferred, placing a finger on the tacky mess of blood, before wiping his digit on his trousers. “It looks as if his head struck the wall repeatedly.”

While the twins continued to survey the blood spattered floor, the Ranger moved farther into the small room to look at the broken chair. Tilted oddly, the seatless chair was the only object that had apparently been stored in the room, and from the layer of dust that coated most of its surface, it had been in this room for quite some time. He held his lantern over it, not expecting to find anything of note, except that in the illumination of the flickering oil light, he saw that the chair was also spotted in blood, the back of the chair smeared in claret near its top, which likely came from Legolas’ bleeding head or mouth, since his other injuries had been bruises. As soon as he saw it, Estel knew just how the chair had been used in Legolas’ subjugation – Kane had done something similar to the Prince in Mirkwood, having implemented a chair, also, over which he had bent the laegel to abuse him. _It is no wonder that he said I knew just how to hurt him the most. All that he has already suffered is being repeated, just to torment him completely. It cannot be coincidence. Truly, someone knows every detail of his rapes at the hands of the merchants and is reenacting them piecemeal._

The Ranger wished to turn away from the chair, to leave the room, to forget that this small space under the stairs existed, but he could not forgo his undertaking. Again, he did not mention his conclusion about the chair’s use in Legolas’ devastation. Such details did nothing but support the idea that whoever had tortured the Wood-Elf knew the specifics of Legolas’ past suffering; moreover, the culprit was using the particulars against the Silvan to facilitate the enthrallment of the Prince’s mind into blaming Estel for the ordeal through which his torturer had put him.

“Brothers,” Elrohir exclaimed softly, quietly, so that anyone passing nearby would not hear and then stop by to see what was occurring within the room. They had no desire to explain to anyone outside the family or the family’s closest friends why they searched the storage room. As of yet, at least that they were aware of, no one outside Elrond’s family, Glorfindel, Erestor, or the Mirkwood Elves knew of Legolas’ beating, although the whole valley likely knew of Thranduil’s strange sleep. “Bring the light, Estel!”

With speed, the Ranger did as he was bid, shining the lantern over Elrohir and where he knelt down by a pillar. Amber hued, empty, and on its side, a bottle lay behind the stone column. More important than this empty wine container was the small glass phial that lay right beside it. Neither was dusty, so neither had been lying in this unused, forgotten storage room for very long.

“Hand it here,” Elladan told Elrohir, who had already taken the phial with intent to pass on to Elladan, while he took the wine bottle to inspect. 

“It smells odd,” Elrohir said of the wine bottle, his nose curling up momentarily at the strangeness of the odor. “It is not just wine, that is certain.”

“And this,” Elladan said without doubt once he had smelled of the phial, “once contained poppy extract. It is not an odor that is easily mistaken.”

The two Elven brothers looked to each other, sharing their thoughts as though they could read the other’s mind through their bright green eyes, but Estel stood from his crouch and placed his back against the pillar. His fatigue from no sleep and too much worry fell away from him. He thought back to the list of places where the amulets and bewitching items might be kept, other than Elrond’s study: the library, the apothecary, and the stables. The library and apothecary had both been searched, where nothing had been missing that could have possibly had any effect on Legolas, which left only the stables and the periapts that had once been used by the horse trainers to coax the foals and unruly stallions and mares into accepting instruction.

“I see nothing else here,” Elladan decided, walking around Elrohir and then past the Ranger towards the door. “Let us find out how Legolas fares and then search the stables. We can tell Ada what we have seen here, assuming that he will leave Legolas’ room tonight for us to confer with him. If not, we can speak to Erestor of it. He might be able to cipher out something that we have not.”

Bouncing the empty bottle in his hand, Elrohir suggested, “This may not even be relevant. Some Elfling could have come in here to try wine with a friend, or some unfortunate who is addicted to the poppy milk might have come in here.” Even as Elrohir spoke, the twins looked disgruntledly to each other, the comprehension of the importance of their findings coming slower to them than it did the human, but coming nonetheless, even if they did not yet know why they found this evidence abnormal.

“Wait,” Aragorn demanded, grabbing tightly hold of Elrohir’s arm before he could walk past him. His mind was a whirlpool, his unruly thoughts swirling through his consciousness – like churning leaves caught in a maelstrom under the falls of the Bruinen – until he recalled Elladan’s words to Faelthîr.

_Enough milk of the poppy, much more than what it would take to kill a human, and an Elf would be rendered into insentience for several days. It would not even appear as if he was poisoned, but sleeping naturally. Much like Thranduil does now._

The twins stared at him in bewilderment but he was not able to put into words what had yet to become cohesive in his mind. His mouth moved, however, causing him to look as if he were trying to tell the twins the content of the cogitations inside his head. The lantern was in danger of falling from his slack hand, which caused Elladan to take it from Estel, who did not even notice as the Elf pulled it from his grasp.

_Just a little of the milk of the poppy, and an Elf’s good reasoning is lowered. Just enough in an Elf’s wine where the taste would be hidden and the Elf would answer any question put to him, even if he would normally never share such information, and he might likely not even recall his being interrogated. As Kalin may have done so in sharing information about the vicious words of the scar and the details of Greenleaf’s torment by the Lake-town merchants._

“Estel?” Elladan asked, tugging at where the human’s hand was still latched painfully tight on his twin’s arm. “What is the matter, muindor?”

_But somewhere between causing insentience and the small amount that could be used to get an Elf’s inhibitions to lower, and in conjunction with the periapt the trainers use on the livestock, an Elf might be made to believe anything. The periapt itself would be inadequate to enthrall an Elf, but combine it with a tincture that renders its patient as pliable as a green stick, and such a charm would put the Elf under the control of whoever knew of its existence. Just as Legolas has been ensorcelled into believing that I have defiled him, that I have beaten him, that I have poisoned his father, that none of his second family can be trusted. Just as Legolas has been subjugated, so too could someone under the influence of a periapt and poppy medicine._

The Ranger let go of Elrohir and stumbled backwards, the aptness of his theory so overwhelming that his body began to reel as did his mind. He fell back against the stone pillar behind him, his knees almost giving way under the weight of his thoughts.

_Faelthîr. Who has knowledge of herbs and healing. Who works in the stables. Who has access to the periapts used on the horses during their training. Who has taken two phials of milk of the poppy while getting Ada herbs, but which Legolas would never consent to taking, and which no good livestock healer would ever use on an animal unless she were trying to kill it._

“Now you are scaring me, Estel. What is wrong with you?” Elrohir asked his human brother, while Elladan brought the lantern up so that the twins could look into the Ranger’s pale face.

_The day that Kalin met Faelthîr, when he brought me news of Thranduil’s arrival in the valley, she was coming out of the apothecary, when she had no call to be inside, since as Elladan has said, the stables have their own storeroom of herbs suitable for the animals. Almost immediately after, she seeks out Kalin and he is soon smitten with her? What might he have told her under the influence of the milk of the poppy, not even aware that he spread his Prince’s secrets?_

“Sit, Estel,” the younger twin ordered, lowering the human to the floor with his older twin’s help, each with a grip under the Adan’s armpit to keep him from falling. Together the Elven brothers forced their human brother into reclining against the pillar. The Ranger barely noticed that he now sat or that his twin brothers were staring at him with unreserved worry.

 _But of course, Faelthîr could not have acted alone. She did not rape Legolas._ He harkened back to what the twins had told him of Mithfindl’s toils that day, and found a common interval between Faelthîr and Mithfindl. _The twins said that Mithfindl spent an hour in the stables. Could it be that the two have been conspiring?_

Elladan was soon kneeling beside the Ranger, his hand out upon Aragorn’s chest as if to hold him upright or to test the human’s heartbeat. With his eyes unfocused and his breathing slowed to a soughing whistle of occasional gasps, the Adan must have frightened his Elven brothers. They already had one injured foster brother – they did not need another one.

Elladan claimed with feigned annoyance, “He is clearly too tired to speak to us.”

“Then let us drag him to his rooms, or to one of ours, since the Wood-Elves will likely bar us from the hall in front of Legolas’ room,” Elrohir told his twin with equally affronted affectation, for the twins hid their worry behind their sardonic banter.

He ignored them still. The night of the feast, when Legolas and Thranduil were in the King’s rooms, no one could have forced upon Thranduil enough of the painkilling tincture to make him sleep without Legolas’ knowing of it and trying to stop it, lest Legolas was also given the tincture. It would have required more than just Mithfindl to force two Wood-Elves to imbibe an unknown extract, though, and Faelthîr was no warrior, but a healer. She could not have abetted Mithfindl in that chore. Thus, if both son and sire were poisoned with the milk of the poppy, then they would have been given it surreptitiously, and it would likely have had to be from someone who they knew or trusted enough from whom to take drink or food.

 _No one knows of Mithfindl’s whereabouts the night of the feast,_ the Ranger thought, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers painfully into them to block out the twins’ worried faces, _and since he had been supplying Thranduil with wine, perhaps the King let him in for a drink, and the poppy was in the wine. Why Legolas would have also drunk the wine, when he usually abstains from it, is not clear, but the effects of the milk of the poppy would have given Mithfindl the chance to place some ensorcelled object upon Legolas. And if Thranduil had been given more poppy than Legolas, it could have placed Thranduil in a state such as the one in which he is currently. Mithfindl could have obtained the poppy milk and learnt_ _how to use it from Faelthîr, who could have told Mithfindl the minutiae of Legolas’ sufferings after learning of them from a drugged Kalin._

“Estel,” the younger Noldo implored, all teasing now vacant from his voice, “if you do not start speaking, I am carting you to Ada.”

“That is a good idea,” the human told his brothers, smiling for the first time in days. “Then I can tell him just how Legolas has been duped, for I believe that I have just figured it out.”

Both surprised and suddenly excited, his Elven brothers shared his smile as they asked together, one only a moment later than his twin, “Tell us.”

His smile soon faded when he realized, _Why would Faelthîr ever help Mithfindl?_ He believed that he had found the method and means for this treachery, but not the motive. Unintentionally, the Ranger was again ignoring his brothers, which caused Elladan to threaten, “Speak to us, Estel, or I am giving you a draught to knock you out until morning. You could well use the rest, I’m sure.”

“Personally,” Elrohir told the Ranger, pinching his arm as if to wake him, “I am beginning to think that you are going mad from sleep deprivation.”

Snapping back to attention, Aragorn climbed to his knees and then to his feet, nearly knocking the twins back as they hurried to move out of his way. “Let us go look in the stables, so that I can be certain I am right,” he told them, “and I will tell you what I think has happened along our way.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Under the watchful observation of Kalin and Ninan, Elrond made medicinal tea for Legolas. He explained each herb and each step as if they were students learning the art of healing, and once done, there was enough for both the laegel and the Peredhel to drink. The water was from one of the buckets of river water that Faidnil had brought in earlier in the day, the cups were inspected and washed twice as if they might have been laced with poison, as was the mithril tea ball, and Elrond patiently answered every question put to him about the mixture while the water heated in a small metal pan over the oil lamp. Overall, the process took much longer than normally it would have, for the two Wood-Elf sentries wanted to know that there was no doubt that what their Prince imbibed was safe. Once everyone was pacified, his Minyatar divided the steaming liquid between two cups and handed one to Legolas.

Until Faelthîr had arrived with the herbs, Legolas had stayed beside his Minyatar, where the unending peace of the elder Elf had soothed the Prince more than could any tea Elrond might brew. But at Galendil’s knock on the door to tell them Faelthîr had arrived, he had unwillingly moved from his Minyatar. Now he sat on the couch, accepting the tumbler of tea from Elrond, who then sat close beside the laegel with his own cup. At the very last moment, just before Legolas could drink, Ninan insisted, “Lord Elrond, if you do not mind,” he intoned with careful suspicion, “Would you trade cups with our Prince?”

His patience not waning at the constant supervision and unchecked suspicion, Elrond nodded tolerantly and took the cup he had just handed Legolas while handing his own cup to the Prince. The tea smelled the same as that which Estel often brewed him, and while he knew he needed to drink it to ease the pain of his cramping thigh, the laegel hesitated with the cup at his lips. The fragrance of the brew reminded him so much of his human lover that Legolas was momentarily lost in the remembrance of the nights he had spent with Estel, on this couch or the bed nearby, in this room, drinking similar tea, and then enjoying as the Ranger massaged his wounded leg with oil warmed over the very lamp upon which the tea water had been heated just now.

“Legolas?” Kalin prompted when it seemed that the Prince would not imbibe the medicines that he’d been given. “Will you drink it?”

The laegel collected himself, thinking, _I am only causing them to suspect Elrond even more._ He had not trusted his Minyatar or the twins over the last few days because he thought they were complicit to hiding Estel’s deeds, but with Elrond here now, having just saved him from releasing his faer from rhaw, the Prince could not recall why he had felt such wariness for the Peredhel. He had never had cause to distrust Elrond before and found it strange that he ever had. To Kalin, the Prince said with a meager smile, “I will drink it.”

As it had steeped, the water had cooled to an easily potable temperature, and so Legolas downed the whole of the cup in one long swallow, just so that he could put aside the reminiscence-invoking, fragrant brew, and thus the memories that it had summoned.

The sentry took the cup from his Prince, and then from Elrond, who downed his own tea in one fell swoop as had Legolas, and put them on the tray on the mantel. Now that he had taken his medicines, the laegel felt better already, even though the tea had yet to ameliorate the cramping of his thigh. The Peredhel scooted even closer to Legolas and then looped his arm through the Prince’s just to touch him, though the Silvan could also feel the ambient magic of vilya coursing through his aching body and incrementally dissipating his suffering. With a sigh of contentment, the Wood-Elf’s mind eased further, he leant against his Minyatar for the welcome warmth and support, and his thoughts soon turned to his King. He asked Ninan, who had twice been to check on Thranduil since first coming to Legolas’ room upon hearing the Prince’s shouting, “How is my father?”

“He still sleeps,” Ninan told him regretfully, but then smiled as he told his Prince, “But I forgot to tell you, so intent were we on making tea – Faidnil says that the King rolled to his side of his own volition.”

“That is most welcome news. Surely, soon he will awake.” He had no reason to believe this except that Estel had promised him that Thranduil would rouse in the next day. His father’s rolling to his side was the most movement that Thranduil had made since his forced slumber had begun, causing the Prince to hope that the Ranger had not lied and that the King would wake very soon.

Both Kalin and Ninan were watching their Prince expectantly, although Legolas was not sure why. If they thought that he would soon keel over from hidden poison or lose his temper again, they would likely wait forever for it to happen. With Elrond nearby, the laegel felt such love and serenity that much like his previous distrust of the healer, Legolas also could not fathom why he had felt so alone and aggrieved earlier, either.

“Perhaps I should go sit with him for a while,” the laegel thought aloud. He had only been gone from his King’s room for a few hours, but the Prince wanted to be present the moment that the King awoke so that he could convince his father to leave the valley at once.

“You need to find your own rest, Greenleaf,” Elrond suggested, sliding forward as though intending to rise.

Suddenly afraid that his Minyatar would leave him, Legolas grabbed hold of Elrond’s elbow, though with Ninan and Kalin standing before them, the Prince found that he could not speak the words to ask the Peredhel to stay with him for a while longer. He need not have bothered worrying about beseeching Elrond to remain, for his Minyatar had no aim of going anywhere just yet. Taking the Prince’s hand that held onto his elbow between his own hands, the elder Elf told the laegel, “Let us get you out of that bloodied nightshirt, Greenleaf, and into something clean. We should see if Faidnil can find new sheets for your bed, since those are ruined,” the Peredhel said, looking over at the lengths of linen that had been cut apart to bind the Prince.

From where he stood in the doorway, overseeing all that occurred within the room, Glorfindel turned to the hall, saying, “Galendil can find him.” The sentry did not need to be told twice by Glorfindel, and Legolas saw Galendil sprint past the door as he quickly made his way to the King’s room, where Faidnil would without doubt be found.

Elrond squeezed Legolas’ hand before letting it go. He then walked to the door where Glorfindel stood, saying to the sentries inside the room, “Your Prince needs privacy.”

The Imladrian commander stepped away from the doorway, allowing Ninan to walk out into the hall. Since Legolas had calmed, Ninan had calmed, as well. The sentry had been taken to task for his insensitive treatment of his Prince, and given that Legolas now seemed to desire Elrond’s presence, Ninan was eager to allow the Imladrian healer access to the laegel if it meant that Legolas would be relieved by it. Elrond took the doorknob in hand, at ready to close the door, even when it was only the laegel, Kalin, and Elrond inside. His Minyatar looked to Kalin meaningfully, expecting the Prince’s sentry to leave, as well, which Kalin had no plan of doing.

“I am not leaving,” he said at once to Elrond and then turned to Legolas. He could see by the alarmed look on Kalin’s face that his sentry feared that if he departed, his Prince would eventually be left alone or that he would not be allowed back into his Prince’s rooms.

Elrond assuaged to Kalin, “I will be here with Greenleaf. I promise I will not part from him until you have returned.”

Like Ninan, the kindness and adamancy of Elrond’s care for the Prince had again won Kalin’s trust, but even so, the sentry was hesitant to part from Legolas. Truly, his harried sentry could have withstood countless days of keeping watch over his Prince, but Legolas did not like the look of Kalin right now. His sentry was exhausted and perpetually confused by his Prince’s swiftly alternating moods and opinions, and a separation from Legolas would do him good. “Go on,” he told Kalin, stifling a yawn to say, “Go find something to eat, wash your face, or take a walk, a bath. Go find Faelthîr and thank her. Do something other than worry over me,” he ordered with another fatigued smile. “I am better, my friend, thanks to you, and will remain so because Minyatar will stay here with me until your return.”

Perhaps in fear that ignoring his Prince’s demand would incite more anger from the laegel, but likely also because he had Elrond’s assurance that he would keep Legolas company, Kalin acquiesced more graciously than he otherwise might have done. “I will return in an hour or so,” he promised. “Perhaps I will go find Faelthîr,” the sentry agreed with sudden eagerness to leave, to see his new lover. Kalin smiled widely, saying again, “I will return soon enough, my Prince.”

Once Kalin was out the door, Faidnil appeared, coming into the Prince’s room without invitation but with an armful of sheets. “Prince Legolas,” the longtime servant of the King addressed the laegel and then to Elrond said, “My Lord. I am told that the bed needs remade?”

 _That is an understatement,_ the Wood-Elf Prince thought with a wry inner smirk. The blankets were in the floor, the top of the bottom sheet of the bed was bloodied from the aggravated chafing on his wrists and the perpetual flow of blood from his nose that had only just recently stopped, and the top sheet lay in tatters, some pieces of which were still tied on one side to the underpinning of the bed. With his usual efficiency, Faidnil replaced the linens and even cut loose the remnants still tied to the bed, saying nothing to either Elrond or Legolas while he did so, nor complaining about the tatters of the sheet he had placed on the Prince’s bed only earlier that day. Elrond was at the huge trunk at the end of the laegel’s bed, searching for another nightshirt.

“This may be the last clean one,” his Minyatar told him. “I fear all your others are smirched in blood.”

The one that Legolas wore now would have to be thrown out, along with many of the other bloodstained articles of clothing, bedding, and towels from his room. “It is of no matter,” he told his Minyatar, saying, “I will borrow one of Ada’s if I must.”

“You will need a whole new wardrobe if you insist on bleeding on everything,” Faidnil quipped while smoothing the blanket over the freshly made bed. The servant’s bluntness was his usual demeanor, and was one of the many reasons that Thranduil kept Faidnil as his personal attendant. With a frown of displeasure, Faidnil came to where Elrond knelt before the trunk and made a barely audible clicking sound with his tongue before he asked Elrond, “You look dreadful, as if you just came from battle, all covered in blood as you are. Shall I fetch you another robe, Lord Elrond?”

The Peredhel looked up in surprise at the forthrightness of the King’s servant. Elrond had servants, of course. The Last Homely House only existed because of the diligence of the household retainers who cooked, cleaned, and repaired in exchange for room, board, and protection. None of Elrond’s servants was like Faidnil, however. Unaccustomed to being in the presence of an Elf so much older than was he, and likely flummoxed at Faidnil’s audacity to question his appearance as if he were familiar, Elrond was momentarily struck dumb. His Minyatar’s startled silence amused Legolas. He found himself smiling in true mirth, which after recent events he had thought he might never do again.

“Thank you, Faidnil, but I will be fine for now,” Elrond finally managed, a grin growing slowly on his face at the humbling reminder that Faidnil was older than he was, having been born shortly after the awakening of the Elves by Ilúvatar. It was not often that anyone could treat Elrond as a youngster, unless it was his wife’s mother and father, the Lady and Lord of Lothlórien. Faidnil had lived longer than most Elves currently inhabiting Middle Earth, and Thranduil had often claimed that only the shipwright Círdan was older than Faidnil was – at least outside Valinor. If this were actually true, Legolas did not know, but Faidnil was certainly the elder of Elrond and treated the Lord of Imladris in the same way that he treated all those around him who he thought to be saplings whilst believing that he was a full-grown tree.

Frowning at the denial of his service, Faidnil changed his target to the Prince, telling him, “Have you lost your brush, Legolas? I will bring the King’s if you have need of it.”

This time, Elrond smiled along with the laegel at the well-intentioned jab at the slovenliness of Legolas’ disheveled, tangled hair. The laegel, however, was accustomed to Faidnil’s candor and told him, “No, thank you. In the morning, I will bathe and see to my hair. I am too tired now.”

Nodding, the servant looked around the room for any mess he could clean, and then set about clearing the mantel of the greens still stuck to them from where Legolas had thrown his half-eaten supper. Once again, Faidnil made no comment on the oddity of having vegetables, bread, and shards of plate strewn about the fireplace – he only went about his business as quickly and competently as possible.

Elrond rose from where he knelt before the trunk, the nightshirt in hand. He came to Legolas, still smiling and ostensibly pleased, it seemed to the Prince, at seeing Legolas smiling, as well. With a lift of his eyebrow, his Minyatar wordlessly questioned whether he minded changing his bloodied nightshirt – the only clothing he currently wore – in front of Faidnil. Legolas minded not at all, and with Elrond’s help, stood to remove the bloodied mess of cloth. Quickly, though Faidnil had not even looked their way, his Minyatar pulled the nightshirt over Legolas’ head to cover him. Since he had known Elrond from his very early years, the Peredhel had seen Legolas in various states of undress countless times, but the last time he had been fully exposed in front of Elrond had been in the apothecary when he had shown his Minyatar the scar upon his leg and confessed to him of his being attacked in Lake-town and then in the woods with Estel. So similar were the circumstances now that the Wood-Elf’s amusement rankled and fled.

Elrond had seen many of the bruises that the Prince held above his waist, but had not seen the myriad contusions on his legs, which included a vicious one on the scarred, healing flesh of his thigh, where the Ranger had purposefully ground his knee into the ruined skin. The elder Elf did not say a word about this further evidence of Legolas’ torment, nor did he try to tend these contusions, when normally he might insist on seeing them or spreading unguent on them to aid in their healing. When he was clothed again, the laegel looked up to thank his Minyatar, but stopped at seeing how Elrond appeared on the verge of weeping, for his eyes were welled with tears that had yet to fall.

 _I still only upset him. I only upset everyone._ Momentarily, the tranquility he felt from Elrond’s presence lessened. _If only I had faded when I had the chance, months ago in Lake-town, in the back of Kane’s storeroom, my family and friends would have grieved my passing and been recuperating from their sorrow, rather than constantly revisiting it._

Unbeknownst to Legolas, the Peredhel had taken the opportunity of seeing his Silvan son completely nude to inspect him for any object that might have been placed upon him. He had not seen or found anything. In fact, save for the bandaging that Elrond and Kalin had replaced on the laegel’s forearms, which Elrond knew did not hold any charm within since he had placed and watched it being placed upon the Prince, not a single thread of cloth clung to Legolas’ skin, no jewelry adorned his fingers, ears, or neck, and there seemed no other place for any such charm to be hidden.

With the tray of dishes and other detritus left from Legolas’ dinner in hand, Faidnil walked to his Prince, a dour frown upon his face. Legolas could tell that Faidnil feared for him. Even if his sentries were inept at dealing with sickness of the faer, and even if Faidnil were no healer himself, the Elf had lived through more hardship, war, and suffering than many of the Elves in Imladris combined. Faidnil was loath to leave Legolas if there was a single task he might complete that would benefit his Prince in any way, and so asked, “Is there anything I can do, Legolas? Do you need anything?”

“I am fine,” the laegel told his father’s longtime servant.

Faidnil did not believe this banal answer any more than anyone else who had heard Legolas utter it over the last few months, but he did bow to his Prince while telling him, “Then goodnight, my Prince. I must go see that your father is comfortable.”

With that, Faidnil took the dirty dishes and tatters of sheet with him, leaving the room once more in a better shape for his having come there. Stifling another yawn, the laegel scooted off the couch, intending to stand once more, and then to move to the bed. He wanted only to sleep for a short while so that he could return to his vigilant watch over his King in hopes that his father would soon rise.

“Let me help you,” his Minyatar offered, not waiting for an answer ere he had his arm around Legolas’ waist to steady him for the short distance to the bed.

Resting his weight on his good leg, he waited until Elrond had pulled back the blankets, and then with his Minyatar’s help he was safely tucked under them.

The open balcony doors were letting in a breeze that had cooled off the summer night’s air considerably, and on that breeze, the Prince could smell the flowering bushes in the garden below, could hear and nearly taste the mist rising from the noisome waterfall. For countless nights over his many years in Imladris, he had fallen to sleep with the same soothing noise and smells. Even the recent turmoil he had experienced in the valley had not ruined his love for his Minyatar’s home, and at once, he felt at ease once more in this room that had been his and only his for the millennia that he had been coming to stay in Imladris with his second family. Now, with the Prince settled, Elrond moved away from the bed, and almost instantly, the laegel’s terror returned to him. The scar remained silent, his body’s aches were soothed by the medicines that his Minyatar had brewed for him, and the betrayal by Estel seemed distant for the nonce; however, without Kalin nearby, he had only Elrond upon whom to rely, and to see the elder Elf moving as if to leave incited a new anxiety that he would be left alone. His Minyatar had promised to stay with him, so he truly had no reason to fear, but his alarm did not abate with the reasoning of this knowledge.

 _Do not be a scared Elfling,_ he chastised himself. As the muscle of his thigh began to repose its cramping, the way in which he lay on the bed became painful, and so attempting to shift his leg to alleviate the distress, he grabbed at his thigh to try to move it into a more suitable position. Even with his back turned, for Elrond was dimming the oil lamp on the nightstand, his Minyatar seemed to sense that Legolas was pestering his wounded thigh. Immediately, he turned back to the Prince, his hand out to grab the laegel’s before it could injure his already grievously wounded leg, but at seeing that the Wood-Elf was only trying to become more comfortable, Elrond instead helped Legolas into settling himself on the mattress.

“Sleep,” his Minyatar told him, speaking so softly that Legolas stilled his breathing just to hear when Elrond continued, “I will be here, ion nin. Sleep.”

Legolas closed his eyes. The gentle command from the Peredhel had worked better than any charm or draught might have, and he began to doze at once. Starting with his shoulders, the muscles of his body began to relax one by one, his arms resting easy with his hands lying over his belly, his chest softening until his breathing became lax, and his uninjured leg loosening, until only the insistent spasm of his cramping thigh remained. After a while, though, even the flesh of the scar took its rest from the effects of the tea he had imbibed under the watchful gaze of Elrond.

Stretching out on the couch near the bed, his Minyatar laid his own tired head upon the armrest so that he faced Legolas and could keep watch on him while the laegel slept. So deep in sleep was the Wood-Elf, he did not feel his Minyatar’s hands upon him, for often Elrond rose from the couch, walked to the bed, and ensured by the touch of his healing hands that the Wood-Elf whom he considered a son was still alive and with him, and that his grief did not beleaguer him in his sleep.


	37. Chapter 37

He had explained to them what he had deciphered. Much to his surprise, they had agreed with his every conclusion. The walk from the back of the house to the stables was not a long one, but it seemed to take longer than usual to the Ranger, for his Elven brothers were strangely silent as they cogitated on what he had told them. They were nearing one of the many entrances to the stables when the eldest of the brothers halted them with his hand in the air, the anxiety in his voice plain when he asked, “Is that not Kalin walking into the stables? Why is he not with Greenleaf?”

 _I do not know, but we will soon find out._ That Kalin was walking to the stables, where Faelthîr worked and from where the periapt had come, made the human worry about the sentry’s state of mind, as well. _When he finds out what part he has played in his Prince’s suffering, he will be gutted._

“Kalin!” the younger twin called, and the three brothers hurried their step to catch up to the Wood-Elf before he could enter the doorway into the barn.

Turning to them at the call of his name, the fair sentry’s face darkened at the sight of the human, making said human think, _If the twins weren’t here, he might have his dagger at my throat again._

Impatiently, the sentry waited outside the stables for them to catch up, his hand hovering around the hilt of his sword, although neither the twins nor Ranger was armed nor showed any sign of intended violence toward the sentry. Aragorn saw that Kalin tensed further at their haste, as if expecting the brothers to attack him, which Estel recognized was the case when the sentry said, “If you seek some retaliation against me, then do so quickly. I have promised Legolas and your father that I will return in an hour.”

Although they had not forgotten the sentry’s having almost slit their human brother’s throat, Elrohir and Elladan were about different business for the moment, and so the younger twin told Kalin, “Retaliation? Had you harmed Estel, I would seek revenge. Had you killed him, you would already be dead.”

“No,” Elladan assured Kalin, keeping himself and his brothers several steps away from the sentry, whose hand had not left the pommel of his weapon, “we seek no retaliation. We want only to know why you are here instead of with Legolas. Our father is still with him, is he not?”

“Legolas sent me away for a while,” the sentry told them, though it seemed that he did not want to share that information with them, “to find rest or do what I might. And yes, Lord Elrond stays with my Prince. He has promised not to leave him until I return. I would not have left Legolas otherwise.”

“And so you come to the stables?” Estel asked. He realized that Kalin held no grudge against his twin brothers, only him, and so his presence was the factor behind the sentry’s agitation, so anticipated that the sentry would not wish to answer him. Still, he wanted to know how his lover was doing and could not keep himself from asking, “Is Greenleaf well?”

The sentry looked down to his boots in consideration of whether to answer the Ranger or tell him to mind his own business. In the end, Kalin looked back up and spoke to Elladan, as if the elder twin had asked him instead of Aragorn. “I have come to find Faelthîr, to thank her for helping Elrond in helping my Prince. Legolas is fine for now. Lord Elrond does for him what I cannot – he is like a surrogate father to my Prince, giving him the comfort that his own father does not, as you well know.” Kalin still eyed the three brothers warily, perhaps thinking that they had followed him and intended retribution against him, despite their having claimed otherwise. He inquired, “And why have you come to the stables in the middle of the night?”

The twins looked between them, conferring with each other as to what they might share with the sentry, until their decision was made – without Estel – and Elrohir told Kalin, “We go about our father’s business. Our father, Erestor, and Glorfindel have cause to think that someone has stolen an object infused with magic.”

“There are many imbued items here in Imladris, but few objects with this particular power,” Elladan explained to the bewildered sentry, who was likely wondering why the twins and human had been given this task and why they saw fit to share this information so willingly. “If any of these ensorcelled items are missing, then we might conclude that Legolas’ mind has been enthralled.”

“Enthralled?” the sentry asked bafflingly. Kalin looked to the entrance to the stables and then back to the Noldor, still pointedly ignoring Aragorn’s presence entirely. The mention of Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor being the source of this information held more weight than if it had been just the twins and especially the Ranger, so Kalin gave it serious consideration for a moment. “You mean that they and you think that someone may have cast my Prince under some spell? How and for what purpose?”

“He would not have mentioned it until we had proof,” the Ranger told the sentry, though Kalin gave no indication that he was listening to the human.

Leaving Estel a few steps behind them, for the twins were still wary that Kalin may seek vengeance against their human brother, Elladan and Elrohir walked closer to the stable door and looked behind Kalin and into the stables. If the sentry had been meeting Faelthîr, then none of the brothers wanted her to overhear what they said. “For the purpose of making Greenleaf believe that Estel is the one who has hurt him, who has poisoned Thranduil. To turn Legolas, and thus all of your kith, against my father, myself, and my brothers,” the younger twin stated quietly in answer to the rest of Kalin’s query while still watching for passersby that might eavesdrop on their conversation.

Kalin had noticed the twins’ interest in keeping their conversation quiet and in like tone rejoindered, “What makes you think this is so? I thought Elrond had protection over those in the valley in keeping dark magics from being used inside Rivendell’s borders.”

“That is so, but there are other means to subjugating someone’s mind, other than outright sorcery. As we said, there are items here in the valley that could be used for this purpose – different than their innocuous intended purpose.” The twins were keen to explain this to Kalin because the sentry was keen to hear it. If they could regain Kalin’s trust, then they had access to the Prince once more. Elladan stepped inside the stable to look down the hall both ways, ere he turned back to Kalin, explaining, “I know you have little trust of us, but there are some in this valley who stand to gain from Legolas’ suffering, but more importantly, from cleaving Legolas from us. This person has attacked your Prince, while the enthrallment of his mind forces him to believe that it was Estel.”

“You must know how much Estel loves Legolas. He is the one who has discovered the evidence that showed us how Greenleaf’s attacker has accomplished his goal. When the truth comes out, Kalin, and it will surface, I promise you that Legolas will realize Estel’s innocence.” With this bolstering declaration, Elrohir placed a hand on Kalin’s arm.

“So then you claim that Estel had nothing to do with Legolas’ defilement.” Neither the twins nor Ranger responded to this, for plainly they believed the human innocent. The tension between the sentry, Noldor, and Ranger suddenly eased. Kalin heaved a great sigh and placed a hand upon the roughhewn boards of the side of the stable house as if to hold himself up. “Then you propose also that Legolas is not wrong in blaming Estel. He merely believes what he has been forced to believe.”

“Legolas’ mind has been compromised. The sooner we confirm how, why, and who, then the sooner we can free him from these falsehoods he has been fed,” the human said, thinking that he would be ignored by the sentry again. “Greenleaf’s faer will be freed of thinking I have betrayed him, and perhaps then, he will let us near again – to let me near again.”

At last, Kalin looked to Estel. Glorfindel’s earlier, well-stated logical arguments against the Ranger’s involvement, Elrond’s devotion to the Prince, and the offered possibility of an explanation for Legolas’ adamancy in his blame for Estel deflated the sentry’s wrath for the Ranger. Rubbing his forehead with his free hand, the other hand still propping him up, the sentry admitted, also finally speaking to Estel, “I have found it hard to believe that you would harm Legolas, but my Prince is resolute that it was you. I must admit that it had never occurred to me that something other than the scar might sway his thinking, but the scar has never caused him to forget or hallucinate. I could not doubt him.” The sentry’s hand upon his brow clenched upon his temples. “I do not understand. Why would anyone seek to harm Legolas in this way, and how?”

“Estel thinks he may know just how that is so, Kalin. But first, let us confirm his suspicion, which is why we are here, and then we will tell you what we know.” Elladan swung his arm out to let Estel and Elrohir walk before him, and then gestured for Kalin to follow. In safeguard of his two brothers, Elladan walked behind to keep his eye upon the sentry, who was not yet convinced of Estel’s innocence.

Together the three Elves and Ranger walked through the stables to reach the middle. The Imladrian stables, if one could view them from a higher distance upon the mountainside, appeared much like an arachnid. A main room was its body, with legs made of rows of stalls spreading out from the middle. In this main room, where the four went, was where Faelthîr and the attendants for the livestock kept their supplies, their ledgers, the small apothecary of herbs suitable for the animals, and also a locked cabinet in which the imbued periapts and other valuables were kept. For this, Elrond also had a key, which he had loaned to Elrohir to see this task completed.

No one spoke while the younger twin searched his pockets and then between the keys he had for the correct one. Kalin stood away from them, his disquiet palpable. Elladan maintained a barrier between the Wood-Elf and the human. _Let us find one of these periapts missing,_ the Ranger hoped. He cared little for being right about the method for Legolas’ subjugation to his attacker’s will. He cared more that they found out quickly what method had been used so that they could counteract it. The longer he went without being privy to Legolas’ thoughts, without being able to aid the Prince in battling his grief, was the longer that his Greenleaf was left to wallow in the steadfast notion that Aragorn had betrayed him and the likelier that Legolas would not live through it.

Elrohir pulled out a stone box, carved with various scenes of horses and riders upon it, and sat it upon the cabinet’s counter. The three Elves and human gathered around as the younger twin lifted the lid and set it aside. Inlaid with a blue, velvety cloth, the inside of the box was made such that indents roughly the size of one of the periapts were lined across and down the box, with nine such indentations in all. In one such well, Estel looked upon a small stone similar to the one that he believed to be the root of Legolas’ distrust of his second family. It was small, the size of the littlest of Aragorn’s fingernails, flat and thin, looking as if it could be broken in half like a wafer of shale. Meticulously, the crafters who had made the periapt prior it its imbuement had painstakingly drilled through the stone such that it could be tied into the mane of the horse. As he shifted to get a better look into the box, the dark, iridescent color of the stones altered, becoming a scintillating green and then murky blue, before he moved again and they went back to a glossy obsidian hue.

Kalin made to touch one of the stones but Elrohir held his hand over the box to stop him, saying, “They should not be handled without gloves, I think. They work by contact with the flesh.”

Having looked his fill, Kalin stepped away from them and said, “We have no such items in Eryn Galen. Horses are trained with persistence, not magic.”

“There are better ways to train the animals, and so they are used here no longer,” Elladan explained, standing back as well so that he could keep his eye upon the sentry, “Or they were used here no longer. There are nine spaces and only seven stones.”

“And this is what has been used on my Prince? A stone meant for beasts?” the sentry asked with some umbrage in his voice, for implicit in their theory that a periapt had been used upon Legolas was that a charm meant for untamed animals and wild beasts would have effect on Kalin’s beloved Prince.

His gaze still upon the box of stones, Elrohir placated the Wood-Elf, “With the help of a tincture that inhibits his rational mind, making him more susceptible to its magic, yes.”

Whether this alleviated Kalin’s resentment, Aragorn could not tell, for Kalin turned away from them to fume in silence. They had yet to tell Kalin the full explanation behind his Prince’s state, nor did the twins seem willing to do so. At first, the Ranger could not fathom why. Short of the sentry’s disbelief, he could see no reason not to be honest with Kalin. _Surely, they do not believe that Kalin is involved, just because Faelthîr may be involved._ Thinking this reminded the human exactly why his brothers were not eager to give the sentry all the information that they had – they would essentially be telling Kalin that his new lover had likely drugged him and used him for information – information that had then been used against Legolas to destroy his will to live, undermine his sanity, and ravage his body.

“How is Legolas?” he queried the sentry. He had asked Kalin this once already but had not been satisfied with the response. They so far only knew that Legolas lived and that Elrond stayed with him. The Ranger could guess that with his father tending the laegel that the Prince was well enough, should Kalin have felt comfortable in leaving him, but Aragorn wished to know of the laegel’s grieving faer.

The Wood-Elf sentry now walked away from them to look down the empty hall of stables from which they had walked. “He will soon fade. Even with your father’s aid, his rhaw heals but his faer does not, although having Elrond near does soothe him,” the Silvan told them, his voice growing ever softer, his ire giving way to sorrow, as he continued, “He waits only until his father safely leaves the valley. Once that is accomplished, my Prince intends to die.”

He would not accept this. Legolas had survived through his grief before, but only with the aid of his second family, and perhaps most importantly, with Estel’s succor. He told the sentry, “When this periapt is removed, when we can recover Greenleaf’s trust, he will be better, Kalin. We will do whatever it takes to see that it is so.”

“If there is a periapt upon him at all,” Kalin argued. He turned back to them, his arms crossed over his chest – Kalin was as upset as they were at the thought of losing the Prince and needed more convincing. “I helped Legolas to bathe and dress. I helped him to spread Faidnil’s ointment upon his bruises. He had not a stitch of clothing on him. There was nothing attached to him.”

“According to Erestor, the periapts are tied into the horse’s mane, close to the head but in easy reach of the rider while mounted. It is likely that Mithfindl tied it there,” Elladan offered as he closed the box of stones and put them back where they were found, then stepped back for Elrohir to lock the cabinet.

“Mithfindl?” the sentry asked, his distress at Legolas’ state once more becoming wrath. The Ranger had seen the same fury on Kalin’s face when the sentry had almost slit his throat in a cold, murderous rage and was only glad now that it was focused on one deserving of it. “The one who accosted my Prince in the woods this spring? He is the cause of this?”

To assure the sentry and also to keep him from finding Mithfindl and slaying him, he told him, “We have no proof, as of yet, although there is no one else in the valley who we believe would harm Legolas in this way.”

Before Kalin could ask questions, Elladan asked one of his own, “Did Faelthîr bring milk of the poppy to Legolas, to our father?” he asked Kalin. “For Legolas’ pain. Did Elrond give him the poppy?”

Kalin hesitated for a moment, and Estel feared at first that the sentry would say yes, but it seemed that the Wood-Elf was thinking. He shook his head, “No, Elrond gave Legolas only herbs. I watched the entire process myself, along with Ninan. My Prince would never have consented to taking the poppy. It numbs him. Even if Elrond offered it to him after I left, Legolas would not take it.”

“You have only just begun courting Faelthîr, have you not?” Elrohir asked. Thus far, they had the stables to themselves, save for the animals housed around them. Even so, Aragorn wished that they could take this conversation elsewhere. There were too many open doors and hiding places.

“Only for a few days. She sought me out after seeing me with Estel in the apothecary,” Kalin told them offhandedly, confused by the sudden change in topics. “She was quick to show her interest…” the sentry trailed off, giving them a flash of a grin. “She is an ambitious she-Elf,” Kalin offered, idly picking at the flaking whitewash upon the wall.

_And that could be why she is partnered with Mithfindl._

Gently, as if he were afraid to upset Kalin, Elladan asked the sentry, “Have you fallen in love with her?”

Kalin looked up in surprise; just realizing the oddness of the questions put to him, he looked between the three brothers while answering, “Love? No. She is a beautiful she-Elf, but I am not a fool. From the first time I spoke with her, she talked only of how she wished to see Mirkwood and that perhaps I could help her gain some position in the house of healing there to be trained. I had the feeling that she desired me for what I might give her, but cared little, as I desired only to enjoy her company.” The sentry’s eyes narrowed and he warned them, “Now it is time for you to tell me why you ask me these questions.”

Again speaking mildly, for they had no wish to accuse the sentry or upset him, not when he was beginning to relinquish his misgivings for them, Elladan explained, “Because I fear that just as you have been using her to warm your bed, she has been using you to gain information about Legolas.”

The younger twin went on, “Legolas has told you of all that has happened to him, has he not? The details that few else would know?”

So still did Kalin become that Aragorn was immediately reminded of Legolas, and of how the Prince would become eerily calm at the height of his ire. He had seen the sentry act this way before, as he had Legolas, and knew that Kalin was at the point of losing his temper. Eventually, the sentry nodded his head in agreement, the wariness not having yet left his face, for he could see where their questioning was headed, and Kalin was not eager to hear that it had been his newfound lover and his own easy trust of the she-Elf that had given Faelthîr the chance to gain the knowledge she and Mithfindl required to use against the laegel. Bitterly, for he felt accused of disloyalty although they had tried not to infer it, Kalin replied, “He has, but I would never share such information with anyone, much less a she-Elf whom I’ve only just met.”

“What do you recall of the night of the feast?” the Ranger asked the sentry. Questioning Kalin while giving him too few answers was beginning to wear the sentry’s patience thin.

“I remember little of the night of Thranduil’s welcoming feast,” the sentry admitted after a moment. Kalin had not considered his own whereabouts as important that night, or what he remembered, but had only considered his Prince’s lack of recollection to be significant. “I drank more wine than I would normally, especially in Faelthîr’s rooms.”

The three brothers had more confirmation of Estel’s suppositions. He tried to comfort the sentry, for he could see that Kalin was realizing the gist of their questions. “It is possible that you were given the same tincture that Legolas has been given, as Thranduil was given. For the King, he was given enough to place him into a deep sleep. For Legolas, he was given the tincture that night and likely again since that night to help the periapt to control his mind. And for you, Faelthîr gave you the tincture to drug you enough to loosen your tongue.”

“The poppy milk.” Kalin had clenched his hands at his sides. “How would such knowledge aid her?”

“To use against Legolas. For Mithfindl to use against Legolas, to force him into believing that Estel was his attacker, by knowing what no one else would know.” Elladan went to stand by Kalin, and then Elrohir followed suit, until the sentry had a twin on either side of him. The eldest of Elrond’s sons continued, “Mithfindl and Faelthîr have conspired, for what reason we are not sure, but as for Mithfindl, he is using the periapt, and your Prince, for revenge against Estel by turning Legolas against him.”

At the mention of the stones, and upon hearing how he was possibly given the same drug as the Prince and King, Kalin’s fair face blanched. “Hold,” he asked of them, “there are two of those stones missing. Do you claim that I wear the other one?

The twins and Ranger had actually not considered that at all. Kalin had not acted any differently than they might have suspected, and of course, they had only just learnt that two of the imbued stones were missing. “It is possible. Let us look,” Elladan told the sentry as he motioned towards a bench beside the counter.

While Elladan searched through the Wood-Elf sentry’s hair, running his fingers along his scalp and to the very ends in search of a charm similar to the ones in the box, Elrohir walked in circles along the outside of the room, where the entrances to each long hall of stables laid, so that he could ensure that they were alone still. Estel merely watched the sentry as he let Elladan search him. _If Elladan finds no stone, then where is the other one? An object like the periapt would not be misplaced by accident._ There was no light within the room other than the silvery moonlight coming through the large, open entrance at the end of the room, which exited upon the field, so Elladan worked mostly by feel.

Hours earlier, Kalin had held a knife at the Ranger’s throat and now he sat under Elladan’s hands, having believed every word they told him. _I begin to think that Kalin held qualms from the beginning, even if he never spoke them. He was easily convinced tonight._ Glorfindel had told them that Legolas had become irate and later learnt that he had become despondent after hearing Kalin question Estel’s guilt. _He will need to hold his tongue, lest it cause Legolas unease to think that his sentry doubts him again._

After a thorough examination, the eldest twin found nothing upon the sentry’s head, saying, “It is not here.”

Kalin sighed to know that he had not been duped in this way, at least. His mind still upon making certain that Legolas did not learn of any of this just yet – not until they knew for certain what was occurring and how to end it – the Ranger went to where Kalin was rising from the chair. “Kalin,” the Ranger implored, laying his hand upon the sentry’s arm without thinking, and then realizing what he’d done, was surprised when Kalin did not react violently to this friendly touch. “Tell Legolas nothing of this. It will only serve to confuse him. He needs no more uncertainty.”

Further surprising the Ranger, Kalin put his own hand over Estel’s where it laid on his arm to say, “Hold no grudge against me, Estel, please, for believing Legolas over you.”

"You were protecting Greenleaf. I cannot blame you for believing your Prince over me, nor hold grudge against you for seeking to kill he who harmed your Prince.” It was likely the only apology that he would get from Kalin, and in truth, it was the only one that he needed.

“Come back with us to the house,” the younger twin told Kalin, taking his arm to pull him along. All distrust between the twins and sentry, and between the sentry and the Ranger, was now relieved. “We need to speak to our father and Glorfindel, and since our father will not leave Legolas, we will need you to send the other sentries away so that we can speak to him in the hall outside Legolas’ room.”

“Of course,” Kalin agreed, adding with a cheerless smirk, “I no longer wish to find Faelthîr, anyway.”

They took the most direct route from the stables to the house. Elladan no longer stood between the Wood-Elf sentry and his brothers in protection of them, Estel noticed, and Kalin seemed as eager as they were to speak to Elrond and Glorfindel about what they had learnt. It was good to have the sentry on their side once more, even if only tentatively. When at the hallway outside the laegel’s rooms, Kalin went to where Oiolaire and Galendil stood at the door. Glorfindel stood there, also, across the hall from the two Silvan.

“The sons of Elrond wish to speak to him in private. Go wait a ways down the hall until they are done,” Kalin demanded of them with no explanation.

They did as they were asked, and although suspicious as to why their superior ordered them to leave the door while he remained to converse with Elves who they still thought their Prince did not trust, especially with Aragorn in attendance, the two Silvan went down the hall where they stood together. Kalin did not knock but slipped inside his Prince’s rooms, leaving the human and his brothers outside with Glorfindel. It took the sentry only a moment to get Elrond. The sentry walked out of his Prince’s chambers so that they could all speak in the hall, but Elrond had no wish to leave the laegel’s room, not even to confer with them, and so stood in the door while they gathered around him.

He asked, “Greenleaf is sleeping soundly, but speak quickly and softly so that we do not wake him. What is it that you have found?”

“We searched the stables and found two of the periapts are missing from their box,” he told his father succinctly, for the Peredhel knew just of what they spoke.

“I am glad that you did as you were asked, for once,” their father jested lightly, “but it was likely for naught.” As Kalin had told them only a short while ago, Elrond said, “When I helped Legolas to change, I saw all of him. There was nothing upon him.”

And as Elladan had told Kalin, the twin told his father, “It would likely be hidden in his hair, would it not? As it is placed upon the horses?”

Elrond turned to look back into the room, where Legolas slept peacefully with the help of the Peredhel’s herbs, the restorative power of vilya, and the assurance that his Minyatar stood watch over him. “I had not thought to check his hair,” their father told them, “I have been more concerned with his grief than the cause of it.”

From where he had been standing behind the three brothers with Glorfindel, who had remained quiet during this, Kalin pushed past the twins to get to the Peredhel, and then offered, “Let us look for it. If my Prince is under some spell I would know of it.”

Nodding his agreement, Elrond moved from the way for Kalin to enter the laegel’s chambers. However, they did not get the chance to look for the periapt, for at that moment, Faidnil came down the hall. The Elf was wiping tears away from his eyes though a smile graced his features. He did not run, as he likely felt it beneath him to do so, but the King’s servant hurried to reach them nonetheless. If he found it odd that Kalin stood at his Prince’s door with the family from whom Legolas had turned away, he said nothing of it. Instead, Faidnil said to Kalin with joyfulness, “Fetch the Prince. King Thranduil is awake and he wants him.”


	38. Chapter 38

To Legolas, it seemed that no sooner had he finally managed to quit his worrisome thoughts than Kalin was shaking him awake, and indeed, it had only been about an hour since he laid down to rest. It was deep into the night and long before dawn when the news came.

“Legolas, Legolas,” the sentry repeated again and again, although the Prince was fully awake after the first call to him and trying to sit. Alarmed, Legolas tried to interrupt, to question Kalin as to what would cause the Elf to be crying, for the fair sentry was weeping. But it was the smile on Kalin’s face that rekindled hope inside the Prince, and he knew what Kalin would say before he told him, “Legolas, your father is awake!”

Across the room, near the fireplace, Elrond stood with his hands clasped in front of him, an excited smile gracing his own fair features. “He is awake?” he asked them, his greatest fear that his father would never waken now made this moment seem unreal to him. His sentry helped him sit. “He is well?”

“He is awake, yes, Greenleaf, and Faidnil says he is well,” his Minyatar told him, coming to the bed to help Kalin in aiding Legolas in rising from it. “Faidnil also says that your father is asking for you.”

The Wood-Elf Prince could not seem to get dressed fast enough. He forwent changing out of his nightshirt, did not bother to try to brush his tangled hair, with Kalin’s help threw on the first pair of trousers the sentry found, and turned down his Minyatar’s offer to aid him in putting on his boots. He would go barefoot. So eager was he to see his father that Legolas did not once think of what his Ada would say to see his son so disheveled, nor did he consider how he would explain his contused countenance, the bandages over his arms, or his inability to walk without the aid of Kalin.

Elrond seemed just as excited as the Wood-Elves around him, and while opening the door to the young Elf’s bedroom to allow Legolas to hobble out, he gently chastised the Silvan with an exultant smile, “Careful, Greenleaf. Do not injure yourself in your impatience!”

Galendil and Oiolaire in the hall were beaming in happiness, as well, and once reaching the sentries outside his King’s door, the Prince found them all to be standing around with the same smiles on their faces, too. It had only been two days since the King’s strange slumber had begun, but for the Silvan in the valley, those days had been long and gloomy, indeed, and Thranduil’s awakening was akin to a summer sun rising brightly after a dark, stormy night. Even Ninan, who held little mirth in the best of times, was grinning as he saw the laegel near the King’s guest chambers, and he nodded to his Prince, saying, “He is waiting for you.”

“Ada!” the young Wood-Elf exclaimed once he’d made it to the bedchamber. He shambled into the room the fastest that he could, leaving Kalin’s helpful support behind and nearly falling to the mattress in enthusiasm to reach his father. The King was propped upon the pillows, his arms across his chest in irritation, his usual scowl in place, but Legolas did not care if the King’s ire was for him – he had never been happier to see his father. He threw himself into his Ada’s chest, wrapping his arms around Thranduil’s torso. His father was awake. All would be well.

“I rouse to find my room full of sentries who nearly start weeping at my waking, they beg me not to rise from the bed until Elrond has had the chance to examine me, and they tell me to wait for you to explain all this. Legolas, what in the name of Ilúvatar is occurring?” the King railed, pushing the Prince back from him, though not unkindly. It was then that Thranduil noticed his progeny’s bruised face. With dismay did the King gaze upon his son, his scowl turning into a horrified frown as he asked ere Legolas could begin answering the King’s question, “Legolas. What has happened to you?”

“It does not matter,” the Prince prevaricated, not once having thought of how to explain to his King what was happening or how to convince Thranduil to leave Rivendell once awake. Still half asleep, the laegel’s mind moved too slowly to decide how to proceed, and his thrill to have his father alive, healthy, and awake preempted all other thoughts. “It does not matter now that you are finally awake!”

Unknowing of the chafed, scabbed skin on the laegel’s forearms, Thranduil grabbed them to keep Legolas from moving away before he was given the answers he sought, but at the tight grip his father placed upon them, Legolas yanked his arms back with an instinctive, pained gasp. The Elvenking startled at this but did not get the chance to inquire about it, for Elrond was speaking, answering the King’s question on Legolas’ behalf, “Thranduil, you have been insentient, though not entirely unconscious, since the night of the feast. We have worried for your well-being. I am ecstatic to see you awake.”

Even in the dead of night as it was, every candle, lamp, and the fireplace was lit in Thranduil’s rooms, casting the entire room in an ethereal orange glow that seemed out of place with the dark of night beyond the balcony. Kalin had left the room to give his Prince and the Peredhel privacy with the King, but Ninan stood nearby the open balcony doors, unobtrusively keeping watch over his King while Elrond was present. The King must have noticed the tension and distrust that Ninan held for the Elf Lord of Imladris, he saw the strange manner in which Elrond acted towards the Prince, as if the Peredhel waited for Legolas to do or say something disagreeable, and of course, with his just finding out that he had been insentient and of concern to them, Thranduil was desirous to know what events had occurred without his cognizant presence.

His fair brow furrowing in distasteful confusion, Thranduil shook his head as if denying the information Elrond had given him. “I feel as if I have only just woken up from sleep. I have been asleep for how long?”

“Come this dawn it will be two mornings ago that Faidnil could not wake you.” Elrond came to the bed, where he sat upon its edge and peered closely at Thranduil’s face, inspecting the King for aftereffects of his condition. “What is the last that you recall?”

Immediately the laegel grew nervous. _Perhaps Ada will remember what I cannot._ It was already evident that the King did not remember much of the night of the feast, for he had not awoken screaming for Estel’s head for poisoning him.

“Legolas brought me to my room. I believe we spoke for a short time. I had more than my fair share of wine, I must admit. Other than that, I remember nothing.” The King watched those around him – Legolas, Elrond, and Ninan – as their faces fell to learn that Thranduil knew no more than they did about what had happened.

 _He doesn’t remember either._ The Prince closed his eyes in misery. Without his father being able to tell the laegel the details of that night, he had no more evidence of Estel’s guilt. _But perhaps that is for the best. If Ada recalled something that might implicate Estel, then it would only end badly for Estel._

“The Ranger is the cause of your sleep, my King,” Ninan presented without being asked. He had come to the bed to stand behind Legolas in silent support of the Prince. “And the cause of your son’s bruises. You were poisoned and the Prince beaten. The human has done it.”

Instead of refuting Ninan’s assertion, Elrond asked Thranduil, “May I examine you? I have looked you over several times but I would like to be certain that you suffer no injury that may not have been apparent while you slept.”

Thranduil was utterly confused, now. Indeed, Legolas had never seen his typically astute father appear so disconcerted. “The human has done what? I was merely sleeping,” the King asserted, though he returned his worried gaze to Legolas and the bruises upon his person. “Why would the human have caused these?”

Elrond did not take offence at being ignored but he did not want Ninan to taint the King’s mind with falsehoods before being able to ascertain all that Thranduil knew, so told the Elvenking, “Let us speak of these matters in private, Thranduil, just you, Greenleaf, and I, whilst I examine you.”

Straightening his shoulders, for the sentry took umbrage even if Elrond was being the better Elf in maintaining his composure, Ninan intended to argue. If it had been just Legolas, the sentry would have had his way, but he left without so much as a word against the idea when Thranduil flitted his hand, saying, “Go.”

 _They will never listen to me as they do him,_ the laegel thought yet again in absentminded fretfulness, watching Ninan leave the chambers at once. All his kith were now outside in the hall save for Legolas and his King. Once the three were alone, Elrond made no move to examine his royal patient, but instead told him, “Thranduil, Ninan is not entirely incorrect. I believe you have been drugged or poisoned into insentience. And Legolas was indeed attacked.”

He found himself torn between telling his father the truth and lying to protect the Ranger. With his father awake, and the sentries now allowing none to enter and better able to protect the King now that they knew his life was threatened, Legolas could see no reason not to tell his father. _Besides, Ninan has already mentioned it. I would be calling Ninan a liar if I went against him._ He wished that he were alone with the King, to tell him what had happened without Elrond’s presence, for the Noldo was not likely to keep his silence when Legolas accused Estel of being the cause for the situation.

In the end, however, it was Elrond who told Thranduil of Legolas’ suspicions while the laegel still deliberated the idea. He told the King, “Legolas also believes Estel to have both poisoned you and beaten him. How he comes to this conclusion, I do not understand. Legolas did not see who it was to attack him, and he remembers nothing of the night of the feast, as you do not, but without doubt, he believes Estel to have caused this, which troubles me, as I know that my son has done no such thing.”

His confusion only growing, the King again shook his head as if trying to shake free the cobwebs grown within it over the last two days of disuse. “Of all who might be blamed, why do you blame your human lover?” he asked the Prince. “If you did not see your attacker?”

“I have no proof,” Legolas said, reaching out to take his father’s hand for comfort. Surprisingly, his father entwined his fingers with his son’s and gave them a gentle squeeze. “But Estel admitted to me that he drugged you, though with what I do not know. And even if I was blindfolded, I know it was Estel who attacked me.”

Already Elrond was opening his mouth to counter this, but before he could argue, Thranduil did it for him, sneering at his progeny and saying, “I do not believe you, Legolas. The Ranger may be rash in his actions, but he is not a fool. There is some other explanation for this.” Cutting to the quick of the matter, the King offered, “Your grief has ruined your mind, making you assume the worst.”

Even his own father did not believe him. The Ranger had told the Prince – while piercing the laegel upon his shaft, no less – that he had drugged the King. To have his two elders scrutinizing him with their incredulity and misgivings, to have his own father take again the side of his attacker, made the Prince decide with determination that lessened the longer his father and Minyatar stared at him, _It does not matter. Ada is awake. He can leave the valley for home, where he will be safe and out of Estel’s reach._

He said as much to his King. “Now that you are awake, you should make haste for home. It is not safe here, Ada, and –”

As if the whole matter was suddenly resolved, Thranduil told his son, “I am not leaving. I have no notion of what has happened, but what you claim is nonsense,” his father repudiated, shaking his kingly head in dismissal at what he had decided was a puerile notion. “I am fine. I have not been poisoned, surely. I do not feel ill at all. Indeed,” the King said, casting back his blankets with intent to rise, “I feel better than I have in years.”

Elrond offered his hand to the King to aid him in sliding from the middle of the massive bed to the edge, which Thranduil took gladly. The Peredhel tried to tell the King, “Thranduil. Someone may have indeed poisoned you, but even if you only slept from some need for recuperation, then there is still someone who has taken treacherous action against your son. Even if you were only in reverie, which I doubt is the case, there is still the matter of someone assailing Legolas. He has been beaten nearly to death, Thranduil.”

As much as he loved and respected his Minyatar, as much as he did not wish to upset him or anger him, Legolas needed his father to leave the valley for his and their kith’s safety and would say or do anything to sway him into leaving. “I know that it was Estel. When I accused him of poisoning you, he took his anger out upon me. Let us go home, Ada.”

Thranduil was now near the opposite edge of the bed, facing Elrond with his back to Legolas. Flippantly, his father told him, “So you accused the Ranger of poisoning me and he defended himself as anyone would have. He would not be the first to take exception to being unfairly accused. You had no proof of his poisoning me, as you admit, and yet you foolishly accused him anyway. It is no wonder he took affront to it.”

“Estel did not attack Greenleaf,” Elrond was quick to say, “although I do not know who has done this, I can assure you that my son was not the culprit.”

“It is the word of your son against mine, it would appear.” Thranduil did not seem upset by this notion at all. He again waved his hand as if casting away the potential dispute. He said with a sardonic smile as he swung his legs from the bed, “It does not matter. If our sons cannot be trusted to play well together, then they shall not play together at all!”

Legolas could tell that despite Thranduil’s attempts to alleviate the situation, Elrond was growing more infuriated with the King’s blithe dismissal of the attack upon the Prince. Above all else, the laegel hoped that his Minyatar would not mention that he had been despoilt in addition to being beaten. Already his father did not believe a word he said – his wounded body was healing, his wounded faer was only worsening, and hearing his father’s opinion on his allowing another human to misuse him would surely end the young Silvan.

“Thranduil,” his Minyatar intoned in annoyance that he was trying valiantly to hide. “Legolas was nearly killed. You both may be in danger, and I am ashamed to admit that I have not been able to find out who is behind this or why this is happening in my house.”

Without hauteur or irritation, which was unusual for his father, the Elvenking offered, “Do you wish us to leave your home? To rid you of the problems we have wrought? I have no qualms in leaving. Legolas and I can be gone tonight if you desire.”

Elrond had meant no such thing and the last thing that he wanted was for the laegel to leave, not when Legolas’ grief had returned and Thranduil seemed oblivious to it – and perhaps even contentious to it. Clearly agitated by the King, who had offered no succor to his injured, anguished son, Elrond knew that if Legolas were to leave, then he would surely die. Quickly, the Peredhel denied Thranduil’s claim, saying, “I would rather you stayed, both of you, and your people, as well. If you were not poisoned, then I would be glad to hear it, and if you were, then whoever has done so did not intend to kill you. But I still fear for Legolas’ safety.”

“If Legolas was beaten by a human, as he says,” the King declared, gingerly standing from the bed to stretch his legs, “then he deserves it for being so lax that a human bested him. We will stay in the valley for a while yet, and if Legolas ends up bruised again, then it will again be his fault for his lack of vigilance. Or perhaps he sought it out. He has strange tastes for pleasure.”

His father had his back turned to both Legolas and Elrond now, pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the washstand. His Minyatar was staring at Legolas with unconcealed concern, for the Prince had withdrawn inside himself, pushing down the pain and fear, the grief and agony of his wounded body, in the hopes of becoming detached from it. Elrond knew what his father did not – he knew that Thranduil’s words cut the Prince in a different way than intended, in a worse way, for the King had just intimated that Legolas deserved being raped and would deserve it again, should it happen – but also, the King had just inferred that Legolas desired the vile abuse done to him.

_You deserved every thrust of Estel’s anger. Your father is right. Perhaps you desired it._

He did not know what Elrond had expected. Of course, his Minyatar was a kind and loving Elf, who treated Legolas more like a son than did his own father. Elrond had heard of but not seen Thranduil’s disinterest in his son’s welfare prior to now, and it had taken the Peredhel completely aback to witness it. Moreover, noting Legolas’ closed eyes, his head tilted to the side in silent contemplation of the scar’s opinion, Elrond knew that the Prince was listening to his grief’s condemnation right now in concurrence with his father’s recrimination.

_You are a whore for Estel’s taking. Even your father agrees._

“Then it is settled. We are staying,” the King decided, glaring at Legolas, just in case the Prince intended to argue further over it, but the laegel minded only the castigation of the scar. “Now if you do not take offence,” he told Elrond generously, “I have need for a bath and a change of clothes.” To his son he ordered, “Send in Faidnil. I wish to bathe and dress. And eat! I am starving,” the King said, stretching his arms above his head. For all the care he showed, the King could truly have just awoken from a long nap.

“If you feel ill at all, Thranduil, please send for me,” Elrond offered as he moved towards the door to the bedchambers and the sitting room beyond. Legolas wearily, painfully climbed from his seat on the bed to leave. Their dismissal from the King’s presence was obvious in how Thranduil paid them no more attention.

“I shall, I shall,” the King glibly agreed as he went to the trunks that held his belongings. But then, as if just noticing, the King looked back at Legolas, who held his hands tightly together to keep himself from grabbing the marred flesh of his thigh. The King rebuked sharply, “Legolas! Take a bath, brush your hair. Have you not brought me enough shame? Do not shame me further by walking around looking like a pauper.”

“I am sorry, Ada,” the laegel told his father, the rote of his apology coming automatically.

His Minyatar had not even had the chance to examine the King, if he had truly desired to do so. _Perhaps he wanted only to make everyone leave,_ the laegel guessed, walking with some difficulty to the sitting room, to leave as his father wished.

Elrond tried to take his arm, to help him out since Kalin had left the rooms, but Thranduil called before the Prince made it very far, “Wait a moment, Legolas. Ninan!” Immediately, the sentry opened the door and came into the King’s guest chambers. His Minyatar went on without him but stood in the hall with the Silvan, and so heard when Thranduil told his sentry, “Ninan, I want no more guards outside my door. All of you are to go to the garrison, as you were instructed upon our arrival. Kalin, as well. Legolas must learn to fend for himself.”

Ninan did not dare to argue, as he would have with Legolas over the last few days, although he did look worryingly to the young Silvan Prince at this command. But the King had given these orders, not some fey, broken Prince. “Of course, your Majesty.” Ninan called out to the sentries in the hall, who then came inside the room to hear their new instructions. Faidnil, who had been waiting outside, as well, entered without Legolas having to tell him that the King required his presence.

The laegel walked out into the hallway where his Minyatar now stood alone, waiting for him. The Prince looked around for Kalin. It would upset his sentry to know that the King had ordered him to stay with the Imladrian warriors instead of guarding his Prince inside the Last Homely House. He finally saw his sentry at the end of the hall, waiting with persistent anxiety for Legolas to start walking his way so that he knew his Prince was ready to leave, and then he would come to aid the laegel back to his rooms.

_You are weak. If Estel comes for you again, he will have you because you are too weak to fend him off._

“Greenleaf,” his Minyatar said to him soothingly, which made him open his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them, even while the hatred of the scar pulsed through him with every beat of his exhausted heart.

He had hoped that with his father awake, things would be well. He had hoped that for once in his life, his King would listen to him, would take his counsel, and that Thranduil would care for him more than he did his royal appearance and reputation. Even if the King had not shown it, Thranduil was upset that Legolas had been attacked. He might even believe that Estel was the culprit behind it and may even accept that Estel was the cause for his sleep of the last two days, but Thranduil would never be willing to admit to any weakness in front of Elrond. He had thought this his father waking would be the end of his own suffering because he had hoped that the King would leave for Mirkwood, thereby freeing Legolas to die. Anticlimactic as it was, his father’s sentience had solved nothing.

_Your father says that you are perverted, that you desired Estel to take you by force because of your disgusting predilections._

“Does it speak to you now?” the Peredhel asked him as he watched Legolas’ hand creep toward the marred flesh of his thigh.

“I am growing used to it,” the defeated laegel told the elder Elf. He did not seize the muscle as he desired – not with Elrond watching him – but his breathing came in quick, short rasps, until his vision began to darken at the lack of air.

“Why did you not tell him, Greenleaf?” his Minyatar asked, coming to stand beside the Prince. Instinctively, Legolas desired to move away from the elder Elf, but Elrond’s arm shot out and looped itself around the laegel’s arm, holding it tight against Elrond’s side so that Legolas could not walk away. Pulling the Wood-Elf around so that the two were face to face, Elrond queried, “Why did you not tell your Ada that you believe Estel was the one who took you against your will?”

Unable to raise his head to meet the Noldo’s gaze, and since he knew that Elrond likely thought him mad just as the sentries and all else who had forsaken him thought him to be, Legolas whispered, “Because he will not listen to me, as no one else does. Or he will ask me why if I was raped I did not die. Or why I did not kill Estel to keep it from happening.” His desperation growing the more he thought of it, the Prince tried to pull his arm free of Elrond’s hand as he continued, “Or he will tell me that it is what I deserve for trusting a human in the first place. Even then, he might seek some retribution against Estel, not out of concern for me but out of anger that his chattel has been damaged. But I will not have Estel harmed.”

Elrond’s hold did not give way and Legolas was forced to stand there under the silent gaze of his Minyatar, until the young Silvan finally looked up to see what hatred or repugnance he would find on the Peredhel’s face. But Elrond was only looking at him with the same love and worry that he had always shown the Prince. “Why do you seek to protect Estel?” the elder Elf asked him.

“Because I love him.” This simple answer was true and shameful to Legolas, for it only evinced that his father was right. He loved the Ranger; he had wanted the human for months now and had enjoyed Estel’s body numerous times. Without thinking of to whom he spoke, aloud the Prince said what the scar had told him, “My father is right. I must have desired to be beaten and raped. I received what I deserved.”

At once, Elrond jostled the laegel roughly, reprimanding, “Greenleaf. Do not speak such nonsense.” When he tried to pull away from his Minyatar’s sudden exasperation, the Peredhel only held on tighter. In response to Legolas’ attempt to flee him and without loosening his hold of the laegel, Elrond slid his other arm around Legolas and wrapped him in a tight embrace. His Minyatar’s hand brushed the hair at the side of Legolas’ head behind his ear, and then slid his hand around the Wood-Elf’s neck and underneath his hair to bring the younger Elf closer to him. Unknowingly, Elrond placed his hand directly upon the periapt tied into Legolas’ hair, and so, the Prince was unable to reject his Minyatar’s offer when the Peredhel asked of him, “Please, Greenleaf. Come with me to the apothecary. Let us talk while I make more tea for your leg.”

The milk of the poppy that Mithfindl gave the Wood-Elf had been needed to facilitate the periapt’s mystical persuasion because what Mithfindl had commanded of Legolas had been contrary to the Prince’s normal reasoning. Because trusting his Minyatar was the natural state of the Wood-Elf’s being, he needed no facilitation by the milk of the poppy clouding his mind, and the simple command, coupled with the Peredhel’s hand unwittingly upon the periapt, caused the Prince to agree at once in obedience, “Yes, Minyatar.”

The easy agreement startled Elrond. He was no less pleased to know that he would be given the chance to search for the hidden periapt, but he had expected more resistance now that the Prince’s faer was not overwhelmed with grief as it had been during the last several hours. Over Legolas’ shoulder, Elrond waved his hand to Kalin, indicating for him to follow. A second later, Kalin was beside his Prince to help the laegel walk, but at noticing the vacuity on the Prince’s face, realized that something was amiss.

“Legolas?” the sentry asked, although it was to the Peredhel that he inquired, “Where are we going? What has happened?”

Legolas was only vaguely aware of what they spoke. He had been told to go to the apothecary, so to the apothecary he intended to go. When the Silvan sentry and Noldorin Lord slowed in walking, with a vacant face Legolas pulled his arm free of Elrond so that he could continue to the apothecary. Under the immediate will of the periapt, the Prince could think only insofar as he was instructed, and so did not notice Kalin and Elrond’s monitoring of him, nor the unsaid undertone to his Minyatar’s reply when he told the sentry, “To the apothecary for tea and to examine the bumps on Legolas’ head.” 

“But Lord Elrond,” the sentry asked respectfully, “what is this? He is in some fugue.”

At the sentry’s worry, Elrond took better note of Legolas’ odd demeanor. Elrond had not intended to place his hand upon the periapt, for he had not known where it was, and only just now realized what he had done. “Kalin,” the Peredhel whispered. He held his hand out to stop the sentry for a moment and told him, “You are right. It seems almost as if he were enthralled right now.”

“What has happened to cause this?” the sentry asked Elrond, although what he truly meant was to ask what the Peredhel had done to his Prince.

“I put my hand on the back of his neck when I spoke to him. When we examine him, I believe we might find one of the missing stones just where I had my hand,” Elrond told the sentry quietly, hoping that Legolas would not understand and question of what they were speaking.

Legolas could hear them but was oblivious to the import of their hushed conversation. He ambled along the hallway, his hand out to catch him should his throbbing leg decide to pitch him to the floor. When he arrived at the stairs leading upwards to Elrond’s study and the apothecary, Elrond and Kalin both carried much of his weight to get him up the stairs, and once at the door to the storeroom, the Prince stopped. Now that his goal was achieved, Legolas turned back to his Minyatar and sentry, who had followed him in inquisitive worry.

“Greenleaf?” his Minyatar asked, peering into the laegel’s face in curiosity of the sudden turnabout from thralldom to awareness. “Are you well?”

Nodding his head, the Prince allowed his sentry to usher him inside the room, while Elrond set about finding the herbs he needed for tea. He plopped down onto the bench, Kalin soon sitting beside him, while Elrond ground herbs into a mortar, humming a familiar song while he worked. The Peredhel questioned Kalin and Legolas as he poured boiling water from the ever-filled kettle into a cup, “Will I need to brew enough for two or will you trust me?”

Flushing in embarrassment, for after the loving care that his Minyatar had given him this night, he wondered once more why he had ever doubted Elrond. He did not know if Kalin felt the same and hoped that his sentry would not argue, telling his Minyatar, “One cup will suffice.”

While the herbs brewed, Elrond walked purposefully to the Prince, telling him, “Let me see your head, Greenleaf.” He did not ask why his Minyatar wanted to do this, but imagined that the healer wanted to check the state of the swollen bruising from where he had been hit in the head the previous night. His Minyatar threaded his fingers along his scalp and through his hair, lightly glancing over the bumps made thereon by Estel, and then instructed the Prince, “Lean forward a little, Greenleaf.”

He did as he was asked, although he had no idea why Elrond would check where there were no injuries. Kalin stood up from where he sat beside him, and while Legolas thought that his protective sentry was merely observing Elrond’s actions, in truth, his sentry had risen so that he could see for himself what Elrond had found. To Legolas, it felt like his Minyatar’s fingers had plucked at a scab, for the minute stone upon him had adhered to the flesh of his scalp, but when he reached up to feel for himself what wound this was that he had no memory of being made, Elrond pushed his hand away, saying, “Leave it alone, Greenleaf, lest we make it worse.”

Again, with Elrond’s other hand upon the periapt, the laegel’s will was defined by his Minyatar’s words, and he repeated aloud, “I will leave it alone.”

The Peredhel dropped down quickly to look the Prince in the face, for he had not meant to use the periapt to instill this imperative but had done so nonetheless. Elrond looked upon the Prince with apprehension, placed his hand under Legolas’ chin, and raised the younger Elf’s head so that he faced him. The blank expression left the Prince’s face at the sight of his Minyatar’s worry and he asked, “What is wrong?”

“Nothing, Greenleaf.” Elrond stood, and so Legolas missed the pointed look that his Minyatar gave Kalin. “Leave it alone,” Elrond told the sentry, although the Prince thought this was meant for him, and so nodded in agreement, even if he was not quite sure what his Minyatar meant.

After a moment, the healer pushed upon the Wood-Elf Prince’s shoulder so that he sat straight up again, and then went to the counter where the tea had steeped long enough for his liking. Elrond handed the laegel the medicines he’d brewed. Kalin had taken to pacing in front of the long table that ran nearly the length of the room although he often turned to watch Legolas as he drank from the cup he’d been given. His Minyatar was watching him with the same fretful gaze as his sentry, which caused the Prince to think, _Everyone thinks me to have lost my wits._

To end their staring, he drank the hot liquid as quickly as he could, scalding his mouth and tongue in the process, until the cup was empty and his Minyatar suggested, “It is not yet morning, Greenleaf. Go back to your room and rest.”

When Kalin took his arm to help him from the bench, Legolas saw the sentry and Peredhel exchange a concerned frown between them, which only fomented the laegel’s wish to leave. _I will find no rest this night. I must find some way to convince Estel to leave my father be, since I cannot convince Ada to leave the valley._ It was with this goal in mind that he let Kalin lead him out of the apothecary.


	39. Chapter 39

Upon hearing that the King was now awake, the three brothers and commander had left the hall and headed to Elrond’s study, which is where they now waited behind the slightly open door for the Prince and his sentry to leave the apothecary. They did so in hopes that they could get their father’s attention, to see if he would come to the study to speak with them. They did not even need to call out, for Elrond left the apothecary, shut the door, and turned to walk in their direction as if sensing his progeny’s presence. Elrohir drew the door open the rest of the way to let his father inside, and once more, Elrond, his three sons, Glorfindel, and Erestor were inside the study to confer. Each taking the seat in which they had earlier sat, everyone expectantly turned to Elrond. The Peredhel told them what he had learnt once he was seated behind his desk.

“I have found it,” the Peredhel said with a smile of relief. Like Estel and probably the others, as well, Elrond would much prefer Legolas to have turned against them because of sorcery rather than the scar. As dangerous as the periapt may turn out to be, it was something against which they could fight, a tangible object even if its sorcery was not – unlike the insidious and irrational grief-borne scar.

“It lies just above the nape of his neck, tied to lay flush to his scalp, and as thick as Greenleaf’s hair is, it would not have been found readily had we not known to look for it. Not even while washing or brushing his hair would he have likely found it. It has already begun to embed in his skin.” Elrond looked down to his desk, which was in some semblance of order again after the twins had cleaned up the mess from earlier. With remorse, the Elf told them, “After talking to Thranduil, I spoke to Legolas in the hall, asking him to come to the apothecary with the intent of searching for the stone covertly, but by accident I placed my hand upon it while speaking, while trying to bring him closer to quiet the scar, and he agreed to come to the apothecary without a moment’s hesitation. I did not notice it at first, but Kalin pointed out to me that Legolas walked as if in a trance. He seemed unaware of our conversation as we walked, only seeming to snap out of it when his task was complete and he was at the apothecary. And then, when I found the stone, he went to feel for himself what was there. I told him not to touch it to keep him from learning of its existence just yet, and because my hands were upon it, he took my warning as a command,” the Peredhel finished with a shamefaced grimace. 

This did not coalesce with what Estel had understood of the periapt, and he considered, _Surely Greenleaf has not taken the poppy medicine. Why would he have been so pliable to do as Ada asked?_ Having not yet had the chance to tell anyone but the twins of his theory concerning Mithfindl, Faelthîr, and the periapt, he did not ask this aloud. He could understand his father’s guilt at having unintentionally instilled his own will into the laegel’s actions. Elrond would never have knowingly done so unless it was to save the laegel’s life.

“They were never used for longer than a training session, else they would entrench into the horseflesh, as you said is happening to the Prince,” Erestor told Elrond, looking up from his book. The advisor still read the same tome that he had been reading hours previous when the twins and Ranger had left him to begin their search. “For that very reason, the trainers would remove them after each session.”

“Why are they no longer used?” the younger twin asked his father and Erestor. It was a question that Estel wished to know the answer to, as well.

Snapping his book shut, Erestor explained patiently, sounding very much like he was schooling them, “Some of the horses became agitated upon their removal. All that they had been trained to do left them and they went back to as they were before, as if they had never been tamed. It was discovered that only horses who already respected their master could benefit from them. The wild beasts and horses took instruction only while wearing it. But horses that already love and take commands from their masters do not truly need the periapt, for they are tame already, so the stones served little purpose.” Erestor leant forward and placed the book upon the corner of Elrond’s desk before he continued to inform them, saying, “I have wondered why they were never destroyed, as they have lain unused for numerous centuries, but I suppose that they might one day become useful if temporary domestication of a wild animal is necessary.”

At hearing that the stone was becoming attached to his Wood-Elf lover, the Ranger had to ask his father, “But you did not take it off him?”

Elrond shook his head but it was Erestor who responded, “If we do not remove it soon, it will sink into his flesh, under the skin of his scalp. It may still be removed then, but the longer it remains, the harder it will be to remove and the more painful the experience for Legolas, both physically and mentally. I am not entirely certain how it even works on him, being that it was meant for animals.” Erestor shifted in his chair, reaching for the tome he’d only just put on Elrond’s desk, but then decided against it and sat back once more. “I fear what may happen to whoever has put him under this spell. As I said, the horses and wild animals became violent towards those who had sought to train them.”

It did not occur to the Ranger immediately, but it did to Elladan and Elrohir, who looked between them before Elladan worried, “Then what of Ada? Even if by accident, he gave Greenleaf instruction.”

Upon hearing this, Erestor yet again reached for his book, this time taking it in hand before settling back into his chair, though he did not then open the volume. The advisor was as unfaltering and composed as was Glorfindel, but the commander must have sensed his lover’s disquiet over lacking the knowledge to enlighten those around him, for Glorfindel placed his hand upon Erestor’s shoulder. The advisor smiled up at the golden haired Elf sitting on the arm of his chair, though his smile faded when he looked back to the rest of them to say, “I honestly do not know. As I said, the horses that already loved their masters did not suffer the same agitation as the untamed ones. However, the good news is that once the stone is removed, as with the horses, the commands under which Legolas are held will be broken. Since they have never been used on intelligent beings, I cannot say if he will forget what has happened, but he will no longer be bound to the will of the one who has placed it upon him and used it. He will be under his own volition once more.”

Indeed, this seemed like excellent tidings to the Ranger. _If removal of this periapt is all that it takes to bring Legolas back to us, then it will be easier than I hoped._ He said as much to those around him, “Why then do we not just remove it? Legolas will forget whatever instruction that he was given and if it is as you say and he will only be harmed by leaving it upon him, the sooner we cleave him from his attacker’s will, the better.”

Again, it was Erestor who answered, saying, “Because we do not know what may happen to him upon its removal. He is no horse, no wild beast. To learn that he has been bound to another’s will, that he has falsely accused you, coupled with being beaten and despoilt – Legolas’ faer may crumple under the fresh sorrow this may cause.”

“Or it may relieve him,” Glorfindel offered in genial argument. “It may lessen his humiliation and relieve his grief to know that Estel is innocent. Moreover, having his lover’s comfort again will help him more than any of us could. One way or another, sooner or later, it will need to be purged. And yet, we have forgotten something – or someone, rather. We need to speak to Thranduil about this,” Glorfindel told them definitively, reminding all those in the room, “As much as we all care for Prince Legolas, his father is here in the valley, and we do not have the right to make these decisions when his sire and King is here to make them.”

Elrond was nodding but still he contended, “That is true, but I worry for what effect Thranduil will have upon our Greenleaf. When Legolas went to his Ada upon his awakening, the King cared little that his son had been beaten almost to death, did not believe Legolas when he told him that he’d been poisoned, and although it was Ninan and myself who told the King of Legolas’ belief that Estel was the one to have done all this, Thranduil did not even believe Legolas on that account, either.” His father studied the surface of his desk in distracted worry. “In fact, Thranduil told Legolas that if Estel was the one to have beaten him, then he deserved the bruises he earned for letting a human best him. He said that our Greenleaf might even have desired the treatment he received, saying that Legolas’ taste in pleasure was depraved. I did not mention that the Prince was also raped, nor did Legolas, and it is likely good that we did not, for now. I hate to speculate what vile insults the King will throw at Greenleaf when he finds out.”

As his father had upon hearing it at the time it was said, Estel could well imagine how Legolas took Thranduil’s words. The King had not known all the facts, but he had implied that the Prince had deserved and desired to be beaten and raped. He had expected that Thranduil would be eager to blame him for what had happened. In fact, up until now it had been one of his main concerns, other than Legolas’ welfare. While he cared little for what happened to him so long as Legolas was well, he had wanted to solve the dilemma of the Wood-Elf’s distrust of him before the King awoke so that he would not have the added obstruction of the King barring his attempts to provide support to the Prince. Now it seemed that it did not matter, as Thranduil had absolved the Ranger regardless.

 _At least Thranduil will not demand punishment for me. The Silvan sentries may also refrain from cornering me and lopping off my head now._ He stood from his chair. The Ranger was so tired that he felt that if he sat still long enough he might begin to doze, and so walked around the chair a time or two before stopping to place his hands upon its back. “I expected that Thranduil would be eager to blame me,” he told them.

“I do not even know if Thranduil believed me when I told him that he had been poisoned. If he did, he gave no sign of being concerned over it, although I imagine that he worries more that his people or ours would think him weak to have fallen for a trap such as poison, and in fact, he railed at Legolas for allowing himself to be beaten because he says it has shamed his King. He is a stubborn Elf, that much is true, and cares only for his own status,” Elrond said with a show of uncharacteristic spite for the Woodland King. Also aberrant for the Peredhel was his current fidgeting: Elrond had begun to tap the edge of the desk in absentminded, irregular rhythms. “I have now seen for myself how the father treats the son. It is despicable, disgraceful, and heartless. He has told his sentries to stop their watch over his own rooms and Greenleaf’s rooms. I do not like it. Legolas will see to it that Kalin follows the King’s edict so that Kalin does not suffer the King’s wrath, and then our Greenleaf will be unprotected.”

“Kalin will never agree to that,” Glorfindel suggested, having seen for himself the protectiveness that Kalin felt for his Prince and admiring Kalin’s constancy, as did they all. Estel was tempted to agree with Glorfindel. No matter if Legolas ordered the sentry away, Kalin would likely hide in the hall or on the balcony just to ensure his Prince’s safety. It was one of the many reasons that the human admired Kalin, for in Aragorn’s life, he had found that loyalty usually extended only as far as one’s wealth could afford.

“He will go to the garrison tonight where the other Wood-Elf guards are housed, I am sure of it. His not following his Prince’s orders is part of what caused Legolas to lose his temper this night and then cause his sentries to tie him to the bed in fear that he would hurt himself.” The Peredhel now began to stroke distractedly the feather of a quill in the jar near his hand. With a morose and chary shake of his head, his father told them, “If Kalin had not come to get me or if I had arrived minutes later, we would be building a funeral pyre today.” Letting loose the feather, Elrond now looked down to his hands – the hands that had worked to keep Legolas amongst them for a while longer, at least.

 _They tied him to the bed?_ The Ranger’s hands clenched upon the back of his chair. While he had known that Legolas had been distraught and in pain, which is why Kalin had come to fetch Elrond, he had not known to what extent. _The fools. They nearly killed Greenleaf._

“Perhaps we should keep watch over Legolas ourselves,” Elladan offered, turning to his twin for validation of this plan. Elrohir nodded his agreement and added, “We can take turns keeping our eye upon him – from a distance, of course. I doubt in his condition that he will stray far from his rooms, anyway.”

“I do not like it,” his father said again, this time in reaction to the twins’ plan of following Legolas around the valley. In preoccupied motions, Elrond began to rearrange his desk back to how it was before hours ago he had thrown half the items on the desktop to the floor. The twins had done their best to set the desk to rights, but only their father would ever know the exact placement for the sundry objects and books placed thereon. “If Legolas notices your following him, it will perturb him. And if the Silvan sentries notice that you follow the Prince, they may act recklessly, or they may take such information to Thranduil and cause discord. Keep your distance from Greenleaf. I will speak with the King today and see what he wants done.”

No one wanted to counter Elrond’s decree, but none of them was happy about it. _Telling Thranduil may be a bad idea,_ the Ranger ruminated, walking another circuit around his chair before easing himself into it. He lost track of the conversation around him as he fretted this new worry. _Thranduil would use the periapt himself to force Legolas into following his will, instead._ The unbidden thought flustered the human and his already overwrought mind imagined the King with the ability to force the Prince into being the son that he thought Legolas ought to be. _Firstly, I imagine that Thranduil would seek to turn Greenleaf against me – that is, if he weren’t already against me. Secondly, he might just tell Legolas to die, just to be free of his worthless son._

“The Silvan should still be wary,” Elrohir was complaining. Estel turned his attention back to their conversation, having missed part of it. His tiredness was making him feel harebrained.

Whatever they had been speaking of, it incited Elrond to inquire, “Since Kalin knew of the periapts, I take it that you told him of the possibility of Legolas being under its thrall. And I noticed that he came with you to Greenleaf’s room without his dagger at Estel’s throat.”

“We saw him at the stables, seeking out Faelthîr to give her thanks. After telling him what Estel surmised from our findings in the room where Legolas was attacked, he followed us to search for the stones, and upon finding two missing, he even let me search his hair so that we would know he did not wear one as well as Legolas,” the eldest of Elrond’s sons explained.

“He apologized, or as much as I would expect of him,” Estel agreed. He rubbed his eyes roughly in the effort to keep them open. “I believe we have won him over to our side again. He was –”

“There are no sides here,” Glorfindel crossly interrupted the Ranger, giving the human a warning glare that threatened a lecture if he did not take the commander’s words to heart. “Do not speak of this as if we were at war with the Silvan.”

He didn’t understand the commander’s irritation until Erestor continued his lover’s thought, saying, “It is important that there are no secrets or artifice between the Wood-Elves and ourselves, and especially amongst ourselves.” With this, Erestor gave the twins and Ranger a meaningful look, causing the twins to trade snide half-smiles and the human to squirm in his seat.

 _He hasn’t had the chance to tell Ada about our spying on Mithfindl. I suppose this is his caveat that he will if we do not._ And so, he thought then to admit to his father that the twins had been following Mithfindl, and to tell their Ada what he had pieced together from the events of the last few days. Thus far, Elrond only knew that two of the stones were missing, and not that Estel thought he had discovered how they had been used upon Legolas. His fidgeting was noticed, causing Elrond to ask, “What, Estel? You have something to say. I can see it in your face.”

Elladan and Elrohir piped up before the Ranger could answer, as following Mithfindl had been their idea and their task, with each beginning to speak, before Elladan quieted to let his twin say, “Ada, do not become irate, please, but since yesterday’s dawn, after you left to find Erestor and Glorfindel, we went to Mithfindl’s room and have been following him all this past day. Tonight, while we’ve been here or searching the grounds for the objects you told us to look for, Hesiel and then Arnos were keeping watch over him for us.”

“We knew that you would not appreciate us spying upon him,” Elladan went on to say, “but his whereabouts have given us a connection to someone else that we believe might be involved in Legolas’ suffering. We would not have realized it had not we visited the room where Legolas was attacked, but Estel believes he has uncovered the timeline of events that have led to this point, and who was involved.”

Their father sat back in his chair, his bright green eyes growing dark with anger that his sons would go against what they knew he expected of them, but first Elrond wanted to hear what they had to say, so took in a deep breath to calm his ire and asked Estel, “Go on, then. What did you find?”

Succinctly, as he felt that Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel would easily piece together the bits of information he told them and come to the same conclusion as he had, Estel explained, “When we left here, we saw Faelthîr in the apothecary, obtaining herbs for Legolas.”

Impatiently, Elrond began tapping the blotter under his hands, the imminent lecture for their wayward behavior looming under his temporary calm. “Yes, yes, I sent her for them.”

“She told us that, but Elladan also saw her take two phials of the poppy milk and put them in her pocket.” He had no need to ask if Elrond had requested her to fetch them, for his father’s glower deepened at hearing this. “Later, while in the storage room under the stairs, we found an empty bottle of wine and an empty phial of poppy medicines. We found also bloodied rope and the pieces of Legolas’ shirt that had been used to gag him. But the bottle and phial…” The human stopped to gather his thoughts. The twins had taken to his suppositions easily enough, but the true test for his logical assumptions would be the three elder Elves before him. “Ada, enough milk of the poppy and Thranduil would be put to sleep for a few days, with no signs of poison, no discomfort, and no ill effects once he awoke.”

“That is true. How do Faelthîr and a bottle under the stairs lead you to thinking Thranduil was given the poppy tincture?” Elrond crossed his arms over his chest, his agitation growing as he began to realize the path of Estel’s logic. Whether this agitation was for Estel or for the events of which Estel spoke, the Ranger would soon find out.

He tried to explicate the best he could, although his exhaustion caused his explanation to veer from topic to topic. “Not just that, but Mithfindl spent time in the stables today, where Faelthîr was tending the animals, as she normally does. She has access to the periapts and the poppy. The night of the feast, no one knew where Mithfindl was, but he had gained Thranduil’s trust by sharing wine with the King. If he let Mithfindl inside his rooms that night, Mithfindl could have drugged the wine with the poppy, putting Thranduil into insentience, and dampening Legolas’ mind enough to place the stone upon him. And with the poppy, Faelthîr could intoxicate Kalin enough to learn from him anything she might desire to know about Legolas, while the next day he would have forgotten her asking.”

“The poppy tincture would explain how the periapt has come to work on an Elf. But he did as I bid, even though he had not had the poppy.” Elrond uncrossed his arms and began his idle tapping again. His ire at his sons for following Mithfindl was forgotten for now.

“Yes,” Erestor told them patiently, “but like the horse that is already tamed and already loves its master, Legolas trusts you already. He would not have needed the poppy to facilitate his obedience to you, which comes naturally to him anyway.”

The Peredhel scowled at the continual reference to the beasts that the periapts were meant for, because even though Erestor had not implied that the Wood-Elf was an animal, his explanation made it sound as if Elrond were the Prince’s master. Showing that he had accepted the possibility of the method the Ranger had revealed, Glorfindel questioned, “Although that seems feasible, what could possibly make Faelthîr help Mithfindl in this endeavor?”

He had obviously not explained himself very well, for the three elder Elves were looking at him in confusion. His mishmash of facts had only served to bewilder his audience, save for the twins, who had already heard this theory of Estel’s. What his explanation lacked was motive, and so he told them, “Mithfindl wants his chance to gain position in Thranduil’s court, or at least to make some use of him in furthering his own position in life, since as Glorfindel told me, Thialid will not petition for apprenticeship for Mithfindl under any of the advisors or lorekeepers here. He does not wish to be on the border patrol forever. And Kalin says that Faelthîr wishes a chance to train under the healers – of Elves and men, not beasts,” he clarified. “She wanted him to take her to Mirkwood, to help her in what way he could. But if they had Eryn Galen royalty under their control, each of them could have whatever their heart desires.”

Still, Elrond could not see the possibility of this happening from the she-Elf. Faelthîr had never seemed cruel to Estel, either, but given that he had never expected such ferocity and hate from Mithfindl, who the Ranger had always found contemptible but never overtly violent, Estel felt that perhaps he did not know the Elves in Imladris as well as he had presumed. His father tried to suss out another perceived flaw in the human’s reasoning, saying, “Then why would he assault Legolas? Why defile him? He risks his own neck for doing so, but furthermore, and more importantly to Mithfindl, no doubt, if Legolas were to die, then he would not be able to use Greenleaf to achieve his end.”

“Not unless the other periapt is on the King,” Erestor suggested. All in the room looked to him in surprise to think that this could be so, but the advisor was looking at Glorfindel’s leg, his long, pale finger tracing the stitching along the inseam of the commander’s trousers. It seemed that Erestor was thinking aloud for he paid them little attention and spoke softly, as if to himself, “Two stones are missing. If he could have placed a periapt on Legolas that night, he could have placed one on Thranduil, as well.”

“Or even before then.” Glorfindel shivered as Erestor’s finger tickled the inner flesh of his knee. He gave the advisor a smile that Erestor returned. The moment between them was visible to all, but in that moment, to Glorfindel and Erestor, it could have been only the two lovers in the room. As silly as it made him feel, Estel’s chest tightened in envy. He would give his left hand if only his right could touch Greenleaf that intimately and earn him the same loving smile as the two Elves across the room gave to each other.

“When would Mithfindl have had a chance before the night of the feast?” Elrond inquired, breaking the commander and advisor’s attention to each other.

“On the way here. Mithfindl often rode with Thranduil, just the two of them separate from the others.” Glorfindel shifted so that he faced the rest of the room again. “A few times, Mithfindl and Thranduil were alone. Once when he showed Thranduil the way to the creek so that the King could wash his face, and once when he took Thranduil into a field to show him the irrigation the farmers were using. Both times Thranduil and Mithfindl were drunk on the wine Mithfindl had brought back with him after bringing word for Thranduil’s arrival. If he uses the poppy as Estel says, then it could have very well been in the King’s wine.”

For a while, no one spoke. Aragorn could sit still no longer. He was tired but was getting his second wind, his excitement to have finally solved this puzzle caused his blood to rush excitedly through his veins, and since the Elves around him seemed to have accepted his conclusions about Mithfindl, the Ranger could see an end in sight to Legolas’ torment. The five Elves and one human were lost in their own thoughts. Well, the twins were lost in shared thoughts, it seemed, for Elladan made some gesture to Elrohir, who returned it with a nod before telling everyone, “Thank Ilúvatar that Estel figured how Mithfindl and Faelthîr are involved so that at least we know from whom to protect Greenleaf.”

“Thank Ilúvatar indeed,” Erestor exclaimed proudly with a pleased smile for the Ranger.

Glorfindel smiled widely, as well, and twisted in his seat upon the arm of Erestor’s chair to tell the human, “You have given us the opportunity for a plan of action, Estel, by fitting together the pieces of this puzzle.”

“Legolas may not know it yet, but there is hope once more,” Elladan shared, adding his own satisfied smile to the others’ exultant faces.

Finally giving in and returning their enthusiasm, Aragorn beamed right back at them. The Ranger rose from his chair yet again, prepared to pace, but Elrond interrupted by standing from his own chair, indicating that their middle of the night palaver was over for now. His cheer evaporating into firm resolve, Aragorn told himself, _Legolas’ sorrow may be ameliorated, as Glorfindel said, by the removal of the periapt and the knowledge that I did not betray him, but he has still been beaten and ravaged. He has lived this long only because of his adamancy to get his father and people out of the valley safely. Once this goal is removed with the periapt, will he have the will to live?_ Only Elrond did not look pleased about having discovered the method of Legolas’ torment, but Estel imagined that his father was thinking just as he was about what it would take for the Prince to regain his good health, overcome his grief, and survive Thranduil’s insults after hearing of all this.

“Go rest, all of you. Come morning, when we have all had time to bathe, eat, and perchance sleep, Erestor, Glorfindel, and I will speak to Thranduil. In the meanwhile,” Elrond ordered, his previous dislike of the twins’ spying now forgotten, he told his identical progeny, “keep watching Mithfindl. If he even walks close to Legolas, put a stop to it.”

Elladan and Elrohir grinned at the instruction, for they would enjoy putting a stop to Mithfindl if need be. “We will,” Elladan gladly told their father, before the twins followed Glorfindel and Erestor from the room. They waited in the hall just outside, however, and Estel knew that they waited for him.

“Estel,” his Ada told him, coming to him to place a hand upon his shoulder to stop him from leaving just yet, “go sleep. After Thranduil has made his decision about what to do, I will find you. I want you there when we remove the periapt from Greenleaf. I am not sure who he will turn to when this is over, but with Eru’s grace, he will look to you.”

The Ranger nodded happily. He wanted the very same.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once within the hallway where the family’s bedchambers were located, Kalin twice began to question Legolas as to what had transpired with the King, but held his tongue. Eventually, Legolas would need to tell Kalin of what the King had said, for his sentry would pester him until learning of his father’s reaction to what he’d been told concerning the events of the last few days. When they reached the Prince’s rooms, Kalin saw that Galendil and Oiolaire were absent from the door, and not yet having learnt of Thranduil’s orders, wondered with quick anger, “Where have they gone?”

“The King has commanded them back to the garrison. And you, as well. Ninan will not be guarding the King and you are not to guard me any longer.” Legolas grabbed for the doorknob but Kalin stopped him with a hand upon his elbow.

“Wait, my Prince.” Immediately wary, for Galendil and Oiolaire had been guarding Legolas’ door to ensure that no one could enter and try to poison the laegel or assault him in his rooms, Kalin asked of Legolas, “Let me enter first.”

He did not argue but let Kalin go into the room ahead of him. Legolas stood in the doorway, leaning heavily upon the jamb, while his sentry checked his Prince’s rooms. Although he’d twice had Elrond’s medicinal tea, which had soothed the aches in his body and loosened the cramping muscles of his injured thigh, the laegel was exhausted and unable to put weight upon his wounded leg. As he stood there hoping that Kalin would hurry, Legolas watched as the sentry checked the bathing chambers, which had originally been the bedroom prior to Legolas’ being given the chambers, and then the bedroom, which had been a sitting room until Legolas’ appropriation of the rooms. Of course, his chambers were bereft of hidden dangers. He had expected nothing less. _Estel is not witless. He would not make the same mistake of trying to accost me in here. Not now._

“It is safe, I believe,” Kalin told him and held his arm out for Legolas to take. Urgently, the ailing Prince accepted the help, as his leg began to tremble under him. _Without Kalin here to lean upon, I may have to dig the cane out of my trunk just to make it from the bed to the chamber pot._

Satisfied that his Prince was safe but disgruntled at the news that he had been ordered to leave off his constant protection of his charge, Kalin helped Legolas to the bed. Having gained little rest before being called to the King’s rooms, Kalin intended for his Prince to do as Elrond had suggested and try to find sleep once again. Legolas sat upon the bed without argument, although he had no intention of sleeping. He did not want Kalin to know what he intended, however, for the sentry would not be pleased, to say the least. Sitting upon the couch, Kalin faced the laegel where Legolas sat on the bed. They both stared out the open doors to the outside balcony, though, instead of at the other. Dawn was still awhile in coming; for Legolas, this night seemed as endless as the last one.

Kalin sat quietly until he could take it no longer and his frustration burst out of him. “I do not understand why the King has called off the guard, my Prince. Did you not tell him your suspicions, of the Ranger and what he has done?”

“I told him, Kalin. I told him that I thought he had been poisoned. He saw that I was beaten. Elrond told him that I believed Estel to be guilty, and although Minyatar denied Estel’s involvement, it was not necessary, for my father did not believe it, anyway.” Legolas could hear the distant call of an owl. He longed to be outside in the woods, to sit by the river, to recline under a tree – to be anywhere but here, in his room, soon to be seeking out penance that his father claimed Legolas desired. “My father has told everyone that he was not poisoned, that Estel justly beat me for falsely accusing him, and that I am a weak, witless fool who has shamed him. It is just as well that the guards are returning to the Noldorin garrisons. They all look at me as if I have gone mad.”

Shaking his head, appearing just as aggravated as Elrond had earlier when Legolas had accepted and repeated his father and the scar’s opinion of him, Kalin vehemently denied his orders, telling his Prince, “I am not leaving you, Legolas. I will stay here. The King can punish me if he will. I will gladly take his castigation if it keeps you safe.”

He didn’t want Kalin to leave, but nor did he want his sentry to earn Thranduil’s ire by disregarding his edict. Legolas knew his father had no wish to complicate further what had become a testy situation between the Silvan and Noldor. “No,” he told Kalin, looking down to the floor between his feet. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but the blood from the perpetually seeping chafed skin on his arms had stained the carpets here by the bed when Ninan and Kalin had detained him to quell his temper, before they tied him to the bed. He told his sentry, “Go to the garrison. Your presence will be missed and noted. Ninan and the others will wonder where you are and the King will hear of it. He might then send you home in disgrace as punishment, and I would rather you be gone for a few hours this night than for the rest of our stay in the valley.”

Already, the sentry was shaking his head as if he intended to dispute this. The weary laegel was too tired to argue: he would order Kalin if need be, and if this time Kalin did not obey him, then the Prince would lose what was left of his harried mind. He should have been able to command his sentry, and while he knew that it was Kalin’s devotement to him that made the sentry want to disobey the King’s order, Legolas would not have Kalin suffer the King’s wrath just to tend him as if he was an Elfling. If Estel wanted to break in and kill him, or abuse him again, then so be it. In fact, to appease the human, Legolas hoped for this very thing and needed Kalin gone so that he could see it accomplished.

“I will lock the door behind you. Even if it just a simple lock, there is no key because it locks only from the inside, and I would wake before any could break it down. The balcony doors do not lock,” the Prince promised, assuaging his sentry by saying, “but they swing inwards. I will move my trunk in front of them. None will be able to enter.”

“You cannot stay in your rooms all day and night, my Prince.” Heaving a sigh, which seemed to be the emergent habit of everyone around the Prince these days, Kalin went to the laegel’s trunk and began to pull it towards the balcony door. Although not heavy by an Elf’s measure, the sentry did not want his Prince to strain his injured muscles in endeavoring to do it himself. As the trunk slid noisily across the floor, dragging the carpets as it did so, Kalin told the Prince over the din, “The King might have told us to quit guarding you, Legolas, but that does not mean that I will not be close by. In the morning, after you’ve had time to sleep and rest, I will come back. We can go to the gardens, or I will get Arato and you can ride while I walk beside you in the fields. If the King is angry that I spend time with my Prince, then like we were troublesome Elflings, he can send us both home as punishment,” the sentry said with a shrewd smile.

“If only it were that easy,” he told his sentry, returning Kalin’s amusement. “I would throw a tantrum in his floor right now if it meant that he would take us all home.”

Kalin laughed heartily, although his mirth sobered quickly, for the laughter seemed out of place during times like these. Unbeknownst to Legolas, Kalin had rescinded his distrust of Elrond’s family, but the sentry would not tell his Prince this. He did not want for Legolas to fall back into his despair, not when he was forced to leave him to his own devices. It frightened him enough that no one would be with Legolas should the scar begin its recriminations again. But the laegel did know that Kalin seemed to be in a much better mood than before, and Legolas thought to himself, _If he spent his time away from me with Faelthîr, then it is no wonder he seems less stressed. If he has fallen in love with this she-Elf, they may end up taking her back to Eryn Galen when they leave._ He did not hope ever to leave the valley alive, but it was a buoyant imagining in thinking that Kalin could be happy and one day have a family. He had thought to spend the rest of his life with Estel, and as it turned out, it seemed that he would, although his life was now cut horribly shorter than the human’s life.

With a final push, the trunk was close enough to the balcony doors that Kalin stopped pulling the trunk to shut the doors before sliding the heavy container in front of them. No one would be able to enter via the balcony without causing enough noise to wake Legolas, and likely this whole wing of the house, for they would end up having to break the glass to get inside the bedroom.

Kalin walked to Legolas. The sentry had accepted that he needed to leave. With the threat of Thranduil’s sending him home without his Prince, and with Legolas’ lies to assure his sentry that he would keep himself safe, Kalin supposed that for now the laegel would be fine. Kalin placed a hand on Legolas’ shoulder, his touch light but friendly. “With your father awake, there is a chance that this torment will end, my Prince, and perhaps he will wish to leave the valley soon.”

Legolas knew that his father would prolong their stay until a suitable time had passed that would not give the appearance that the Silvan and their King were fleeing the Last Homely House. He had no counsel to give his sentry so sat in silence until Kalin withdrew his hand, and then with a soft goodbye and a reminder to lock the door, he withdrew his presence, such that the Prince was alone in his room with only his thoughts.

 _What will I do? Ada says that he will not leave. I will not be able to convince him otherwise._ His father had made up his mind to remain in the valley and Legolas knew that his King would do so just to spite his son and his would-be assassin. Thranduil would see going home as running away and the proud King would never lower himself to fleeing in the face of danger.

Outside, in the hall, he heard the familiar voices of the twins speaking to Estel. They were telling him to get rest and that they would see him after the sun had risen. The Prince looked out the windows of the balcony doors, gauging by the night sky how much longer until Anor took her place in the distant horizon. _Estel told me that I had one day for Ada to leave before he makes good on his promise to kill him. Already, Ninan and Elrond have told Ada that I blame Estel. Should Estel find out about this, he will think that I have accused him when he warned me against it. I cannot let him take revenge against my King, not if I can convince him otherwise._

The twins were still speaking to each other as they walked down the hall – towards their own rooms, perhaps – and Legolas heard the gentle thud as the Ranger closed the door to his chamber. The failing Prince stood on shaky legs and inspected himself. His nightshirt was clean and billowy. It was unlaced down the front, such that most of his sinewy, bruised chest could be seen. Before heading off to see his father, he had hastily thrown on a pair of trousers that were clean but otherwise nondescript. His feet were bare. His face was mostly washed clean from his earlier nosebleed. His hair was a tangled mess, although no longer filthy with blood, and while he smelled of the camphor that Faidnil’s ointment had been made from, overall he seemed presentable enough, at least for his purposes. He imagined that it would not be his appearance, but his bleeding and bruised body, his cries of agony, and the breaking of his faer that would please the Ranger.

 _Other than my eventual death, Estel wants nothing from me except my torment. If that is my only advantage to ensure my father’s safety, then I will make use of it if I can._ Trembling as he trod across the room, Legolas stopped long enough to press his aching forehead against the door, telling himself, _I can live through another time. I must live through this another time._


	40. Chapter 40

Having finally decided if he did not find sleep that he would end up dozing off at a crucial moment during the impending day, Estel peeled off his tunic and removed his boots. He truly wanted a bath before he slept, but he was so tired that he feared he might fall asleep in the water. Aragorn had yet to remove all the possessions he’d been storing on his bed and was standing there wondering if he should put them away or just knock them into the floor when a knock upon his door ended his contemplation.

 _Now who could this be?_ he wondered. He felt assured of Legolas’ safety for now, he had done all that he could to aid the Prince for the night, and he desperately needed rest if he wanted to continue to assure Greenleaf’s well-being and further his endeavors to end his lover’s suffering on the morrow. Not bothering to ask who knocked, the human threw the door open, a frown of aggravation upon his face and a warning on lips to tell his visitor to come back later when he’d had enough sleep to think straight, but his every thought and emotion fell away from him at seeing who it was that stood in the hall.

“Greenleaf,” he whispered.

His fair albeit bruise-dappled face turned to the floor, Legolas timidly asked the Ranger, “May I come in? I need to speak to you.”

For an ephemeral and brilliant moment, the human hoped that somehow the Prince had seen reason, that the hold of the periapt had been broken. He looked down the hallway toward the opening upon the main hall, then to the other direction that led to his brothers’ and Arwen’s rooms, and Elrond’s rooms beyond. No one stood guard anymore, so no one knew that Legolas was asking to enter the Ranger’s chambers. Clearly, by Legolas’ own reckoning of the situation, the Prince knew that there was no one nearby to whom to call for help and was thus choosing to put himself in danger by asking to enter the human’s rooms alone. Kalin was not with him since he’d been ordered to abandon his charge. Aragorn had thought Greenleaf safe because he’d assumed that Kalin would not forsake his duty to Legolas, but it seemed that his father had been right and the sentry had listened to his Prince’s demand to cease guarding him and go to the garrisons.

Estel hesitated. He worried what Legolas’ intentions were in showing up at his door in the middle of the night. Yet, seeing his lover, his beguiling face downturned and his shoulders slumped, the Ranger knew that he would not turn away the laegel, regardless of what Legolas wanted or what trouble this might cause. “Please do come in,” he told the Prince, opening the door entirely and then stepping back so that the Wood-Elf would not need to walk too close to him.

Legolas hobbled through the doorway. As it had only been a day since he had been beaten severely, the Elf still moved with caution. Although Estel had held no intention of shutting the door, Legolas swung it closed behind him and then backed into it to lean upon, his weight resting on his uninjured leg. He looked as though he could barely stand.

_He should be in bed. I hope he has not come here to kill me, now that his father is awake and there is seemingly no danger to Thranduil._

Despite what the laegel might think, Estel would never knowingly hurt his lover, but if the Wood-Elf had come here to seek revenge for the wrongs that Legolas believed Estel to have committed, then the human would fight for his life as long as it did not require him to seriously harm Legolas. He had not lied to the Elf the evening previous, when Kalin had nearly slaughtered the Ranger after hearing the Prince’s claim that Estel had ravaged him – Aragorn would rather slit his own throat than see Legolas suffer any further.

“I am sorry, Estel,” the Elf told him, his face remaining downcast and his voice low. “My father has said that he will not leave the valley. I know you said that I had one day to make him and his retinue go home, but I cannot convince him. I will try again today, but I do not expect that he will change his mind.”

Fighting the urge to sigh in frustration, for it was hard to continue conversations with the Prince when Aragorn had not actually been present for the first part of them, the Ranger walked closer to the Silvan, who for the first time in days did not back away at the human’s approach. However, that could have been because he was already as far away from Aragorn as he could possibly be, with this back flat against the door.

Legolas’ desperation grew as he spoke, his breath quickening and his already pale face growing evermore so, “I know that I promised to make my King and our kith leave soon after he awoke, but Ada will not listen to me,” the Wood-Elf repeated. “He will not leave. Even when Elrond explained to him that he might have been poisoned and that he might still be in danger, Ada would not see reason.”

When he was only a stride’s length away from the Wood-Elf, the human stopped. If he walked any closer, he would end up taking the laegel in his arms, which would only serve to frighten Legolas or perhaps even turn him violent.

“Please, Estel,” the laegel appealed without shame, “do not harm my father or people for my failure. I cannot make him leave. You know that he does not listen to me. His pride is too great to flee from danger. He will leave on his own time, and until then, I will do whatever you ask of me. I will stay behind when he leaves, as you demanded, and I will be yours to do with as you will, and I will say nothing of it to anyone. Give me more time, I beg you.”

The King’s pride may have been too great, but the Prince’s pride was too little – at least in this matter. Estel did not bother to try to argue against what his Elven lover told him. It was pointless, as strong as the laegel’s convictions were, and doing so had only made the Wood-Elf flee from him in confusion and sorrow the last time they had spoken, before Kalin had interrupted with his dagger to Aragorn’s neck. Now that he knew the source behind the Prince’s accusation of him, Estel felt no anger or sorrow to hear the continued inveighing of his supposed participation in Legolas’ tribulations. He would not waste this opportunity alone with the Elf by trying to defend himself – instead, the human planned to gain as much evidence as possible. He considered, _I do not understand. Why would Mithfindl want the King to leave and Legolas to remain in the valley with him? He could not hope to continue to torment Legolas without eventually being caught. Mithfindl would want to leave with Faelthîr to see that they gain their new, prestigious positions in Eryn Galen. Unless Mithfindl only wants Legolas to believe he will be forced to remain, just to be cruel in having Greenleaf think his torment will never cease._

“I tried not to blame you to my father. Elrond told my King that I blamed you, although I never accused you to Elrond, either. You must believe me, Estel. After your father told my father this, I could not lie and say that it was not true.” Not finished with his plea and speaking more to the Ranger than he had in days, Legolas rambled on, “Ada thinks I am mad for saying that you poisoned him. My people think that I am mad.” The Wood-Elf stood with his hand out to the wall to catch himself should his leg give way, his lank, unbrushed hair hung over his face, which was tinged black and brown from the slowly fading bruises upon his worry lined forehead, trembling mouth, and hollowing cheeks. “No one believes me except perhaps for Kalin. But even he is beginning to doubt me. He says that he needs only my word, but I can tell that he hides his true feelings.” Dragging his free hand over his contused face and down his discolored, injured throat, the Silvan spoke more to himself than to Estel, “Perhaps he is right to doubt me. Perhaps they are all right to doubt me. It is as you said it would be. No one believes you to have done this because they all think I am mad.”

So disconsolate did the Wood-Elf look that Estel had the urge to play the part of the culprit that Legolas thought him to be, to assuage the Elf with promises not to hurt his father, or to give him more time for the King to leave the valley. However, he would not lie to the Elf, even to comfort him. Instead, the Ranger remained silent, letting the Prince speak in hopes of gleaning more information from him.

But then, unexpectedly, the Elf stumbled forward and nearly into Estel. Falling to his knees before the Ranger with a half-stifled groan of pain, Legolas stretched his arms out towards the human’s waist. At first, Aragorn thought that the Prince meant to hug him or grab hold of his legs to continue his piteous supplication, but it was for the ties of the Ranger’s trousers that the Elf reached. His unsteady fingers groping at the leather cord, Legolas tried to unfetter the lacing. “I will do as you ask, Estel. Let them leave,” he beseeched, his hands not stopping despite that the shocked Adan tried to push them away. “If it pleases you to take me again, to hurt me again, I will gladly endure it if you would just let them leave the valley unscathed.”

“Legolas!” he exclaimed in a loud whisper. Unable to push the Elf’s hands away from the juncture between his legs, the human stepped back and then dropped to his knees, also, so that the two were now on their knees, face to face. He could not endure having the once proud Wood-Elf kneeling before him in fearful obsecration.

Even then, the frantic Silvan fell nearly prostrate before the human, almost as if he were bowing to Estel, but Legolas was still trying to remove the human’s trousers. He fumbled forward until his face was against Estel’s bare chest, his hands once more at the Ranger’s groin. “Please, Estel,” the Elf whispered, too ashamed to speak any more loudly, “If it pleases you more that I beg you to stop, as I did yesterday, I will do it. I will find rope so that you can tie me. Tell me what you desire and I will give it to you gladly. Please let my father and his people leave.”

Estel firmly held onto the laegel’s forearms, knowing that he was squeezing the chafed and continually bleeding skin there, but as he was unable to contain the Wood-Elf in any other way, he did not let go. “Stop this, Greenleaf.”

At the Ranger’s instruction, the Wood-Elf halted his frenzied attempts, likely out of fear of antagonizing the human, the Ranger realized. Aragorn was desirous to drag the Elf into his arms, to comfort the laegel. _He said that I told him he was my whore now; it seems that he would be so willingly._ Tears sprung to Estel’s eyes and fell unbidden down his face. _Legolas asks to be raped again just to placate me, just to keep his father and people safe._ The Prince had done the same thing for Estel, when Sven and Cort had threatened to kill the Ranger unless the Wood-Elf submitted to them, but not like this. Whereas the laegel had truly had little choice in the woods, now, it was only Mithfindl’s instruction to him that quelled him into thinking he had no choice. Without the periapt the night previous, the Prince would likely not have submitted to his attacker so easily, and would not be here now asking for more suffering. The Wood-Elf would have fought his assailant until one of them were dead, and if not for the periapt right now, Legolas might be trying to kill Estel rather than asking the Ranger to kill him by slow excruciation.

Still holding the laegel’s arms so that Legolas could not renew his efforts, he told the Prince, “Greenleaf, your father’s sentries, his servants, and especially your King could slay me before I could draw my sword. I would have no chance if I tried to attack your people.” When the Silvan did not respond to this logic, the Ranger went on, saying, “Now that your father is awake and the Wood-Elf sentries watch my every movement, what threat am I to your people? If you truly thought that I would still kill your father or any of the Wood-Elves for not following whatever agreement you say we have made, why not just kill me now?”

Legolas met Estel’s gaze with his own for the first time since coming into the room. He expected the Elf to say that he would not kill the human because he would be held accountable or that everyone would say that he had been driven to lunacy, but the astounded Wood-Elf searched the Ranger’s face as if unsure how the Adan did not know the answer already. He admitted, “Because I love you still, Estel. Despite what you have done. I want my father to be safe, and my people to be safe, but not at the cost of your life. Not if I can help it. I would rather die myself than let you be killed.”

“Greenleaf –” he made to argue but the Prince started his pleas again.

“Estel,” he entreated, dropping his head once again so that he did not have to face the human, “what revenge you sought against my father, please let it be over. Take your dagger and end me, if you desire. What do you want of me? Tell me.”

He could take it no more. The Ranger grabbed the quiescent Elf around his torso and pulled him into his arms. Legolas did not fight him, did not try to move away, and though at first he only remained stiff and unmoving, the Prince eventually softened and let the human hold him as he longed to do. As he had in the garden a few days before, the Silvan laid his head down on the human’s shoulder, but this time, he tentatively wrapped his arms around the Ranger’s waist. Although Aragorn was heartened at the action, he also rued that Legolas only accepted his affection because he feared the human or because he was doing just as he had promised – that is, whatever Estel desired so that the Ranger would leave his father safely alone.

Thinking that Aragorn lusted for his pretending to be willing, as the Wood-Elf would have been only days previous, Legolas tried a different tactic to entice the human. When the Adan felt the laegel’s quivering lips press against the side of his neck, Estel pushed the Elf away in appalled shock. He had and would always desire the Prince’s affection, but never like this – he wanted the laegel to desire him back, not desire to subjugate himself. In casting Legolas away, Estel’s surprise caused him to push too harshly, and the Prince fell over, his weight placed upon his wounded thigh too much for him to maintain his balance. The Wood-Elf did not rise, but lay on his side upon the floor, not speaking, no longer begging, but waiting. Unable to bring himself to aid the Elf in rising from the floor, for he feared that the Prince would interpret his every touch as indicative of the torment for which the laegel gladly asked, Estel thought in horrified wonder, _Does he truly think I will beat him? Or ravage him?_

Livid, though not at Legolas but Mithfindl, who had caused the Prince to be so shattered, he told the Wood-Elf in a voice rough with the subdued tears that burned his eyes and throat, “Get up, Greenleaf.”

“Do you not wish to kick and hit me again?” the wretched laegel plaintively whispered. Slowly and with a great deal of pain, the Elf rose until he knelt with his hands placed afore him to hold himself from the ground. He did not look up at the Ranger, though, so could not see the revulsion on the human’s face, and thus continued to offer more ideas for his excruciation in hopes that the Ranger would be willing to choose one in exchange for the extra time he sought to get his father out of Imladris. “Tell me, Estel. Tell me what you want from me. What part of my torture do you wish to reconstruct now? Do you wish to feel my bones breaking under your hands? Would it please you to call me by the same crude appellations that they did?”

“Be quiet,” he demanded, grabbing the Elf by his upper arms and lifting him so that he sat back on his heels before the Ranger once again. “Be quiet, Greenleaf,” he ordered again, shaking the Elf determinedly as if by this he could snap the laegel from his entranced recitation of what terrors through which he had lived – vile deeds that he spoke of now in the vain hope of seducing the human.

But the Wood-Elf was beyond desperation, and since he believed that his one-time lover wanted to ruin him, to break him absolutely, Legolas could not seem to quiet. Yet again, the laegel’s hands fumbled at the ties to the Ranger’s trousers, freeing the knot there and trying to slide inside to reach Aragorn’s flaccid shaft. The Elf’s entire body heaved forward, his chest seeming to cave inward as his self-induced sorrow mounted. “Kane forced himself down my throat, choking me until I nearly lost consciousness. Would that please you? I will find a bottle, and you can abuse me as he did in his storeroom, when he had me tied to the wine barrel.”

“Enough!” he shouted, uncaring if anyone in the hall might overhear.

He could listen to this no longer – it would drive him mad and Legolas into despair. The more that Legolas begged for suffering and the more he remembered his past torment, the more fragile his faer became. Even though Estel was not an Elf with the keen perception for such things, he could see that his lover was teetering on the edge of extinguishing the already dimmed light of his faer with the cold draught of his sorrowful remembrances and fervent supplication.

Unable to keep Legolas from his feeble, single-minded pawing at the human’s manhood, for he feared that he might hurt the already injured Wood-Elf, the fraught Ranger slid his hand around the Elf’s neck, pressing hard against the back of Legolas’ head, right where his father had said he had found the periapt. Much like Elrond a few hours ago, Estel did not need the poppy medicines to force Legolas into listening to his demands, for in fact, it was the laegel’s normal disposition to trust the human. Aragorn knew he would regret doing this and that his father would find out, and then, his good intentions would not be able to save him from Elrond’s wrath. But he could not let Legolas linger in this state.

“Be at peace, Greenleaf,” he whispered.

He hoped that this would work, that the Elf’s trust of him prior to the last few days was strong enough that the periapt would work without the poppy tincture needed to inhibit his volition. At once, fortunately for them both, the laegel stopped his struggle to reach the Ranger’s shaft and his body stilled its shuddering. His hand still upon the periapt, he looked down into Legolas’ face and saw there a tranquility that had been missing over the last several days. Not since the night by the river, when Legolas had drawn Estel by hand into the water to please him, had the Wood-Elf looked so serene and worry-free.

“Be at peace,” he said again, his hand still upon the stone, while carefully trying to construct a new optimism under which the Prince could survive for the time being. “Do not be afraid of me, Greenleaf. I love you. I will not hurt you. I _did not_ hurt you. I promise you. I will end this. All of it. Please trust me.”

“I trust you,” the Prince replied back in a sleepy mutter, “I love you, also, Estel. I do not understand why you have betrayed me.”

He had told the Elf to be at peace and to trust him, and so Legolas did both with frightening alacrity – the Wood-Elf rubbed his cheek against the human’s bare collarbone, nuzzling Aragorn’s neck so that the human would lift his chin such that he could place his head on Estel’s shoulder. His mouth turned in towards the Ranger’s neck, Legolas sighed contentedly, his breath wafting across the human’s throat. Not wanting to release the Elf for long, the human compelled Legolas into walking on his knees with him so they were nearer to the door. Aragorn leant back against the wall, sitting with his legs sprawled out before him, and drew the Elf between them, letting Legolas rest on the hip of his uninjured leg, his body pressed into the Ranger. He had held the Prince thusly on the mountainside, when Legolas had confessed to him the evils that the human merchants had forced on him in the back of Kane’s storeroom. But also, many years ago, when Estel was nearly still a child, the Prince had held the human in this way, sheltering him from a winter storm with the warm comfort of his kind, strong body. Eagerly, Legolas curled into Estel, his head once more against the human’s collarbone, his arms laxly wrapped around the man’s torso. He enfolded the Elf inside his limbs, clinging to the Prince tightly.

 _This is madness. This is what Mithfindl has been doing to him, forcing him into following his will just to exact revenge._ A sickness spread over the Ranger, the betrayal he had not committed was no less damning than the one he committed now by forcing Legolas to follow his directives. _I am trying to help him,_ he argued to himself. _I will do nothing that places him in harm’s way. I am only trying to prolong his life until we can find some means to heal him permanently._

“Please,” the Wood-Elf murmured into the Ranger’s chest, his lips moving softly against the human’s lightly pelted skin. “Why is this happening? Help me, Estel. You are the only one I can trust.”

 _I am the only one you can trust because I have just enslaved your mind into believing it to be so._ The Ranger buried his nose into the tangled tresses at the top of the Elf’s head and closed his eyes tightly, causing the brimmed moisture there to stream out and down onto the laegel’s hair. _Moments ago, you trusted me not at all._ He had no answer for the Prince that would not upset Legolas’ artificial quietude, so he told his lover, “I will fix this, Greenleaf, and you, as well. No matter how long it takes. I will help you get past this.”

“You will help me?” Legolas spoke so quietly that he sounded as if he were speaking in his sleep. With a long, gratified sigh, the Elf susurrated, “Please.”

“I promise you.” He did not know what the laegel wanted from him. He swore nonetheless, “I will do whatever it takes, Greenleaf.” He held the Prince so tightly to him that he feared he might be hurting the Elf, but Legolas did not complain. “Do not leave me. Do not give in to sorrow. With the help of your friends who love you, Greenleaf, I will find some way to put an end to your suffering. Trust me.”

When after many quiet minutes Legolas neither responded nor moved, Estel took his hand off the periapt, pulled back to gaze into the Prince’s face, and was astounded by what he found. _He has fallen asleep,_ the human wondered in amazement. The Prince had found some basic level of comfort from Estel and had fallen into deep reverie. _He must be exhausted._

Eventually, the Wood-Elf’s breathing evened out into that which the Ranger had listened to the past few months of sharing the Prince’s bed – that is, the innocent, blameless sounds of simple slumber. As much as he desired to make the laegel as comfortable as possible and as much as he wished he could lie beside the Elf so that he could sleep with the Prince in his arms, Aragorn could not lay the laegel in his own bed, not since it was covered in his belongings. More importantly, if the Silvan sentries or Thranduil should come looking for Legolas, his being in the Ranger’s bed would begin a row that might eventuate in someone getting hurt. Without the Prince’s guards to watch over him, though, Aragorn loathed taking Legolas to his own room and leaving him there unprotected. For a few moments more, he remained in hesitation and indecision, but the longer he sat there on the floor, the fatigued, sleeping Wood-Elf in his arms, Estel knew that he was not willing to give up this moment of guileless affection with his lover.

Estel shifted Legolas so that the Prince’s sore leg was stretched out, the laegel’s head resting in the crook of his arm, and his long, lithe body was comfortable between Estel’s lean legs. He took much of the Prince’s weight upon his own legs so that the laegel did not rest on the floor but upon the Ranger’s flesh. The Wood-Elf did not even stir at his being moved.

_He is as tired as I feel, although he needs the sleep much more than I do._

From what he could see through the open window across the room, Estel knew that the sun was on the rise. The gloom of night gradually lightened, the angle of illumination coming through the window altered, and the nocturnal shadows were chased across the floor until the sunlight almost reached the laegel’s bare feet. Even beaten and bruised, disheveled and smelling of camphor, the Wood-Elf was the most beautiful being that the Ranger had ever seen. However, he hated seeing his lover injured, was tired of watching the Elf struggle to walk, and had grown weary of the ever-present grief from which Legolas could not be free. Yet, these conflicts did not make the human wish to capitulate to the apparent futility of the Wood-Elf ever being healthy and their both being free to enjoy the love between them. Over the last two days of not being able spend to time with Legolas, to touch him, to comfort or take comfort from him, Estel had felt the draw of hopelessness, had realized that despair was leaching away his resolve to see Legolas whole once more, but now, though the Elf slept and this quiet moment would likely be a short one, the Ranger felt renewed.

 _How many years will it take for Legolas to be free of these new injuries?_ he thought, his mind upon the wounds to the Elf’s faer and not his rhaw. The laegel had granted him a second chance, had gifted him with his love and more than likely his life, being that the Wood-Elf would very likely die upon Estel’s death – should they still have the opportunity to remain together after this was over. _Even when the periapt is removed and Legolas realizes that I did not abuse him, will he ever be able to endure my affection again?_ he considered, not thinking of seeking pleasure with the Wood-Elf, but of mere intimacy such as what the two enjoyed now. He had used the imbued stone to calm the Elf this early morning, but once it was gone, it was very likely that Legolas would still carry the memory of Estel despoiling him, even if he knew that it was a fabricated recollection. _Mithfindl would have been kinder to have killed Legolas and me outright, rather than turn Greenleaf against me even temporarily._ The Noldorin warrior had gone beyond revenge. Aragorn had never desired to kill an Elf before. In fact, the idea had never once crossed his mind except as a joke. But now, looking down at his lover, the Ranger wished more than death upon Mithfindl.

Legolas’ nightshirt was open at the collar and down the front, not having been laced, and thus showed most of the Elf’s chest. Everywhere there were bruises. Normally, an Elf would heal quickly, for their bodies were hardier than those of men, but the Prince’s grief slowed his healing such that whereas typically after a mere day the Elf’s contusions would have begun to fade, Legolas bruises were just as vivid as when first they appeared. The Wood-Elf’s throat still bore the handprints of his attacker’s cruelty, where Mithfindl had choked the laegel nearly to death. Upon the Elf’s forearms, the bandages there were spotted with blood that had soaked through, for the drastically chafed flesh there looked as if someone had tried to flay the skin from Legolas’ arms. The similar chafing on the Elf’s face was not nearly as bad and did not bleed like on his forearms. The inflamed, red skin around his mouth and cheeks had already begun to fade, at least, and would not leave scars, unlike the wounds upon his forearms, although these scars would fade with time. One side of Legolas’ mouth was mottled black and blue from having been struck there, his lip split from the blow.

Overall, the Prince was as beaten as he had ever seen another living being, and as he reviewed his lover’s wounds now, Estel said aloud to the slumbering Elf, “Thank Eru, at least, that Mithfindl threatened Thranduil, giving you reason not to die.” Tightening his hold upon the laegel, he added just as quietly, his own tiredness making the Ranger close his eyes and lay his head back against the wall, “Although when you realize that your father is no longer in danger, once more you will need to find within yourself the desire to live.”

Estel reached up beside him and cracked the door open so that he could peek into the hall if need be. Thus far, he had been lucky in not being caught with the Wood-Elf. If one of the Silvan walked by, especially Ninan come looking for his Prince, then Estel imagined that he would find himself shorter by one head. At least the Prince’s sentry seemed not to blame the Ranger any longer, and yet, Kalin still did not seem to trust Estel fully. It would take Legolas’ reneging of his accusation for that to happen, the Ranger felt sure. For now, Estel had missed the simple pleasure of having Legolas within his arms, of knowing that the laegel was well because he was near to him, and despite his worry that he might be found, he could not relinquish the Elf.

It wasn’t a Wood-Elf who passed by sometime later, but the twins, and the human was lucky this was so because he had dozed off regardless of his intention to keep watch. Noticing that the Ranger’s door was slightly ajar, Elladan did not bother knocking, but pushed the portal open slowly to check on his brother. At seeing Estel sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, and the Prince snuggled safely and soundly asleep against the human, the Noldo crouched down immediately beside the dozing Ranger. A moment later, Elrohir knelt down beside Elladan, and together the twins put their hands upon Legolas. Instinct from his years in the wilds caused the Ranger to rouse, as he could feel their presence, and he was wide-awake at once.

From the twins’ identical, distressed faces, the Ranger was reminded of how his Elven brothers had appeared after finally gaining entrance into the laegel’s library in Mirkwood, when Estel had tricked them into leaving him alone with Legolas and then locked the door to the room, taking Legolas out onto the balcony and nearly killing him in his attempt to pull the Wood-Elf from his disconnection. They must have been remembering the same, for they worriedly took turns in feeling for Legolas’ pulse, stared into his face to gauge his coloring, and then listened to the soft sounds of the Prince’s enslumbered breathing, as had Estel with zealous satisfaction.

Both twins sighed concurrently. Whispering, Elladan asked, “Why is he here, Estel? If Ninan or one of the other sentries sees this, Legolas will not be awake quickly enough to stop them from murdering you.”

“He has been here for the last couple of hours, sleeping peacefully. I have not had the heart to wake him, nor did I want to carry him to his room and leave him alone. Kalin has gone to the barracks, as Ada said he would. Greenleaf would be defenseless in his room right now,” he replied, though he did not quite answer Elladan’s question. Truly, he had not wanted to release his lover. It had only been a few days of not being able to touch his Greenleaf, of not enjoying the laegel’s presence, and so even if Legolas was asleep, the Ranger hoped that the Prince was as fortified by his being near as he was by being near the Elf. Legolas was in dire need of encouragement and relief.

“How in the name of Eru did he fall asleep next to you when he doesn’t even trust you?” Elrohir asked, placing his hand once more upon the Wood-Elf. Together, the twins appeared on the verge of removing the laegel from him, and so greedily, the human embraced the Elf tighter. Legolas did not stir in the least from this handling. The Prince’s humid, hot breath ghosted across the bare skin of his chest, and from where Legolas’ cheek laid flush to the human’s collarbone and upper torso, the heat of Elf had caused the Prince’s skin to feel clammy as the sun began to warm the valley and thus the Ranger’s room. Even these small details the human had longed for while absent from his lover’s presence.

It pained him to think of telling his brothers of Legolas’ reason for visiting the Ranger’s room. He considered keeping it from them just so that he would not be asked to repeat any of the awful suggestions that the Wood-Elf had made to entice the Ranger. But he could not evade their questions forever. The twins would hound him until he gave them the answers they desired, and for the Wood-Elf’s sake, Elladan and Elrohir needed to know all that Estel did so that they could help the Silvan.

“Estel?” his eldest brother prompted. Elladan reached out again to touch Legolas, to lay his hand upon the Prince’s shoulder, and thinking that they would try to pull the Prince away from him or try to wake him, Estel shifted his hold so that his arm blocked Elladan’s ability to grab hold of the Prince. They were cognizant of his evasion of their attempts to take the Silvan away from him and both twins frowned worriedly at his possessiveness. In irritation, Elladan said again, his question simply the Ranger’s name, for the human knew well what the twins wanted to know, “Estel?”

He looked down to the Elf he held in his arms. He had missed the weight of the laegel in his embrace, as slight as that weight was. “Legolas came here to bribe me into not harming his father or his people, saying that Thranduil refuses to leave the valley as soon as I demanded.”

Elrohir stood, pulled the door closed all the way, and then knelt back down to his twin brother, his human brother, and his Silvan brother. “Bribe you? With what?

Remembering the many tortures that Legolas had mentioned to tempt him, tortures that the Elf had actually endured already, caused the human to shudder. “He offered me his body. He wanted me to torment him, as he thinks I have done yesterday before dawn, in hopes that he might appease me into giving him more time to get his father and servants out of the valley.”

“Oh, Greenleaf,” Elrohir exclaimed softly. The elder twin said nothing but shared the same sorrowful expression as his younger twin.

“When I refused him, he became upset, and so I held him. He fell asleep. He must be exhausted.” He wanted to tell them that he had used the periapt to subdue the laegel but could not – not right now. When the reckoning came, when the periapt was removed, or when his implorations to Legolas became evident, then he would worry about the possible consequences of his actions.

“Perhaps, despite the stone,” Elrohir soothingly told the human from where he and Elladan knelt close by, “Legolas still trusts you.”

 _Not in spite of the periapt,_ he thought though he did not say. _Because of it._

“The sun is up. I imagine that Kalin will not stay away from Legolas for long, orders or not,” Elladan said, glancing toward the window. “Kalin may not desire your blood shed any longer, but please, Estel, let us not tempt fate. Let us move him to his bed.”

Once more, he told them, “I am not leaving Legolas alone in his rooms. The lock upon his door might as well be made of paper, we cannot lock it from the outside anyway, and anyone can climb onto his balcony, as I myself have proven.”

“Then we will just have to keep watch over him, won’t we?” Elrohir soothed again. His twin brothers did not need Estel to tell them how desperate he was to keep the Wood-Elf with him, but they were not willing to relent.

Holding his hands out, the eldest brother stopped just a fingertip’s breadth from touching Legolas ere he said, “Estel. Let him go, just for now. If Ada has his way, today this will all be over, and then, hopefully, you won’t have to let him go again.”

Rising from the floor, Elrohir peeked out the door, slipped outside and into the hall. He had said nothing, but Aragorn thought that his brother might be checking Legolas’ room for Kalin or another sentry to be sure that they could move the Prince without being caught and therefore having to answer to any irate Wood-Elves.

With his hands still out, at ready to take Legolas from the human, Elladan lost his patience and snapped at his human brother, saying harshly but still quietly, “Estel. Do not make me wake him just to force you into letting him go.”

The threat was not idle; the Ranger did not want the careworn Prince to waken when he needed the rest, and so reluctantly, the human eased his hold of the Wood-Elf such that Elladan could slide his arms under Legolas. The elder twin gathered the laegel into his arms easily enough, giving Aragorn a strained albeit grateful smile as he did so, for Elladan had no more wanted to wake Legolas than did the Ranger. Hefting him once he had gained his feet, Elladan told the human, “Greenleaf’s grief is causing him to waste away, as it did before. It has only been two days but he is already lighter.”

The Ranger had felt as much himself. Months of carefully ensuring that Legolas ate and exercised would all be for naught if they did not soon alleviate the Wood-Elf’s ailing faer. The door to his bedroom suddenly opened and Elrohir came back inside to tell them, “The hall is clear, his room is empty, and either Kalin or Legolas one has moved his trunk in front of the balcony doors. No one will get in that way.”

Estel climbed to his feet, his rear and legs tingling from having sat still on the hard floor for so long, and barefooted and bare-chested he followed Elladan and Elrohir across the hall and into Legolas’ bedchambers. While searching the room moments previous, Elrohir had adjusted the Wood-Elf’s bed so that Elladan had merely to place the Prince on the mattress. Before either of his Elven brothers could do so, the human slowly laid the thin blanket over his lover. He leant down over Legolas, smoothing the hair away from the Silvan’s forehead before pressing his lips lightly against the darkest, largest of the bruises along the Elf’s hairline.

“Estel, come,” Elrohir asked of him, grabbing hold of the Ranger’s arm to tug it meaningfully the very moment that Aragorn stood upright after giving his lover this tender buss.

Walking out of the room was one of the hardest actions that Estel had ever taken. It seemed silly to him, for he had once left Legolas in Mirkwood with only his father and the scar and his potentially fatal grief for company, but after the brief, wonderful moment of having the laegel to himself, to give the Silvan up again felt as though half of the Adan was being ripped away. So reluctant to leave was he that at the entrance to the laegel’s room, Elladan had to yank the Ranger out of the entryway just to shut the door.

With a thoughtful, sympathetic frown, the eldest brother then pulled the human across the hall and into his own room, though he did so much more gently than he had in removing Aragorn from the doorway to the Prince’s chambers. He told the Ranger, “He will be fine for now, Estel. I have to go relieve Arnos from his watch over Mithfindl. I wish to know where he has been all this night. But Elrohir will stay here in your room, at the door, to keep watch over Legolas’ door.”

“I can do that,” the human complained. He no longer desired to sleep, even as his body reeled from lack of it. Elladan did not bother arguing, but left the room and also left his twin to deal with Aragorn.

Elrohir disagreed, “No, you need sleep. You will get sick if you don’t find rest soon, and I have a feeling we will need you healthy and awake before the day is over. I promise I will wake you should anything happen.”

The younger twin’s portentous words did not sit well with Estel, but he nodded his agreement. Elrohir settled on the floor behind the door, where he could peek out through the crack between the hinged jamb into the hallway to keep guard over Legolas’ rooms. Not bothering to remove any of the stuff upon his bed, Estel laid down around it and fell into a deep and quick sleep.


	41. Chapter 41

Legolas ambled slowly, with many pauses along the way, the cane firmly placed under him for each step upon his wounded leg. Ninan said nothing of the cane or of how long it was taking to make the short distance to the next hall where the King’s chambers were. Since he’d only just been awoken from his sleep, Legolas had still not had the time to bathe or change, as his father had impugned him to do several hours ago. So as he walked with one hand always upon the wooden walking stick to steady him, he used the other hand to comb through his hair and smooth it down into some semblance of order. He could do little else for his appearance, as he had not wanted to keep his father waiting for his arrival as he would have should the Prince have taken the time to bathe, change into suitable clothing, or brush and braid his hair. If his father intended to rant and rave this morning, Legolas would endure it gladly. He was so joyed that his Ada was awake that having the King rail at him was still better than his father lying unmoving in his bed.

His head was aching much more than usual – or at least, more than what had been its typical ache over the last few days. Something significant and unexplainable had happened that early morning before dawn, although the Elf was not entirely sure what it had been. A few hours ago, he had gone to Estel’s rooms to plead with the Ranger to leave his father alone. He had been willing to do whatever the human wanted of him, all in the effort to protect his King from Estel’s retaliation for Legolas’ failure to convince Thranduil to leave the valley as he had been instructed. Instead of taking him, of using him and despoiling him as the Prince had expected would be the Ranger’s exacted penance, Aragorn had held him how he once would have, as if they were lovers still instead of master and thrall. Legolas did not recall falling asleep, but he had awoken in his own bed, in his chambers, unscathed and undefiled.

More importantly, the laegel had felt an unshakeable feeling of peace that even now still relieved his weary faer of the agony of Estel’s betrayal. Why he should feel this was unclear to him. He had tried to give his body to the human in return for time for the King to leave safely, and instead, Estel had offered him succor and acceptance. The Ranger had told him that he had not hurt him, that he loved him, that he could trust him. And for some reason, despite still knowing without doubt that the Adan had beaten and ravaged him only a day ago – the wounds of which he still bore upon his body and the grief of which still haunted his mind – the laegel held every word that Estel said that morning to be truth.

The discrepancy between his renewed faith in his beloved Ranger and the clinging memory of the torment that Estel had gleefully forced upon him was a tender subject – a physically sore topic, to be precise. Like a barely healed wound that painfully bleeds every time the scab is picked, each time that the Prince tried to focus his attention upon what had happened that morning, the ache in his head would rise. By the time that they reached his father’s door, where there were no sentries guarding any longer, the Prince’s shambling steps slowed until he could barely walk. The dizziness that his aching head caused created a pervasive, undulating blackness that swept over his vision each time he moved in the slightest. His cane fell from his numbed fingers and the laegel reached out for the doorframe or the wall to keep from falling, but it was Ninan he grabbed ahold of, as the sentry was vigilant of the laegel’s tremulousness and steadied him just in time.

“My Prince,” the sentry said worriedly, moving to stand in front of Legolas to be at ready to catch him. His arm still out and kept up while he bent down to retrieve the cane, Ninan queried, “Are you well? Shall I ask your father to wait a while longer for you? Perhaps you need to be back in bed. He could come to you, instead.”

“Help me into the room,” he said in little more than a rasp of his normal voice. His father had requested him and he was not giving Thranduil any more reason to be disgusted with him, not since he was certain that his King intended to show the Prince this morning just how displeased he was with him already. “Please, Ninan. Let us not keep the King waiting.”

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“Estel,” his brother intoned quietly, tapping the side of the Ranger’s face just once before the human was awake. His Elven brother’s smiling face seemed odd, given the dour circumstances of the last few days, but the first thought he had was of Legolas and how his lover had fallen asleep in his arms a short while ago. The potential of the return of the laegel’s volition and the promise of many more such intimate moments between the Wood-Elf and himself caused Estel to smile back at Elrohir. He had hope that today would be better than the last few days. Today would begin the etiolated Wood-Elf’s recovery and then, his withering Greenleaf might flourish and thrive once more with the love and care of his friends.

“What is it?” the sleep addled Ranger asked as he sat up, his thoughts immediately upon his lover. He coughed to clear his throat and rubbed his eyes against the brightness in the room. In the relucent morning sunshine, Elrohir’s dark hair glinted fluidly, as if it were wet, black ink, and highlighted his excited, jovial brother’s face. By said light, Aragorn guessed that he had been asleep only an hour or so. Wondering why his brother had woken him so soon, as Elrohir had been the one to insist on Estel sleeping, the Ranger inquired, “Is Legolas well?”

Elrohir moved back so that the human could rise from the bed and gave his foster brother a wry smile, clearly amused at the Ranger’s indomitable single-mindedness. “He is well enough, I suppose,” Elrohir said as he searched around him for something. “Greenleaf has awoken and left his room. He is heading to his father’s chambers, I believe, according to what I overheard Ninan say.”

He’d managed to sleep around most of the possessions covering the mattress, having knocked only a satchel and a stack of tunics off the end of the bed, but did not care to pick them up right now when there were more important matters over which to be concerned. His tiredness, the ache of his muscles, and his mind’s torpor were improved by the short amount of slumber he’d been allowed. He greatly wanted a good meal and a cool bath, but those needs could wait. Legolas was leaving his room without Kalin, it seemed. _At least Ninan is with him,_ the Ranger thought. _I would rather someone be with Legolas at all times until the periapt is removed and Ada dictates what is to be done with Mithfindl._ Although as of yet they still had no hard evidence against the warrior, there was no uncertainty in the Ranger or his Elven family and friends that Mithfindl was indeed the culprit.

“Quickly, Estel,” the younger twin said, having finally found that for which he looked. From the scattered pile on the floor at the end of the bed, he picked up a tunic to throw to the shirtless human. “I promised to help Elladan in following Mithfindl once you were awake. I had intended to let you sleep longer, but now that Greenleaf is up, you should be as well. Do you think you can trail Legolas without his knowing it? You do not need to get close. Just make sure that he is safe until Kalin finds him. He goes to speak to his father, so I fear for his well-being, especially if Kalin is not there.”

He was not sure that he could trail Legolas without being noticed by either the laegel or Ninan. It might have been better had he helped in following Mithfindl, as the Noldo moved freely about the house where there was space in which Estel could skulk and hide as he shadowed him, but the last thing that they needed was for the Noldorin warrior to become aware of their following him before they had learnt as much as possible about Mithfindl’s maneuvers. As he pulled on his tunic, the human suddenly realized the implication behind Elrohir’s statement – the Prince was off to see his father, and knowing Thranduil, the King might use the opportunity of having Legolas alone to beat his son into submission, to punish the Prince for being less than princely, by the King’s opinion.

 _I will follow Greenleaf then,_ the Ranger told himself, straightening his trousers upon his wiry hips. _And if Thranduil decides to shame Legolas, the King’s sentries will have to kill me to force me to stop thrashing Thranduil in return. I will not let Legolas suffer his father’s hate after all that he has already barely managed to survive._

“Ada told us not to trail Greenleaf,” he reminded Elrohir, just to know what his brother thought of it. The Ranger had dismissed his father’s decision to avoid the laegel once he had learnt that Kalin was not with his Prince and that Legolas was off to see the King, but wanted to hear Elrohir’s blithe justification.

“If Ada knew that our Greenleaf was off to see his father alone, he’d insist on following Legolas himself.” Pausing as he now searched the floor for something else, his Elven brother gave him another grin and grabbed the human’s boots to toss at him, where they hit the floor and bounced against the Ranger’s bare feet, causing dried mud and dust to break free of the well-worn boots. “Legolas should be easy to follow. He’s walking with his cane this morning and moves slowly; as well he should, as injured as he is. You need only follow him until Kalin comes to find him, which I am surprised has not already happened. I did not think that Kalin would let the sun rise before he returned to Greenleaf.”

His own smile fading at hearing that the Wood-Elf required his cane to walk, the Adan sat on the bed to pull on his boots, thinking, _I suppose that Greenleaf would have already been using the cane, if Kalin had not been around the past day to aid him in walking._ Legolas had not needed the cane for months now. In fact, before the last few days, the Wood-Elf had been almost entirely mended, according to Elrond. It was why they had planned a hunting trip – to test the laegel’s resilience before straying farther from the protection of the valley. The reminder of their abandoned hunting trip made the Ranger long for the chance to be alone with his lover once again. _It will be months, perhaps years before Legolas will wish to go into the wilds with me._ A vindictive, small part of his mind told him that the Prince would never again want to be alone with him, not even after knowing the truth – not with the memories of what the laegel thought he had suffered by the human’s lust.

“Estel,” Elrohir said as he came to his brother, placing a hand on his head to ruffle the curls there, as he would have when Aragorn was but a precocious child. To ease the sudden somberness that shrouded the human’s hopefulness, Elrohir pledged, “Today this ends. Mark my words, brother.”

“I hope you are right.” Today Lord Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor intended to speak to King Thranduil, to make him aware of what was occurring and ask his consent to set about removing the periapt from Legolas. His father had promised him that he would be there for this event in the belief that the Prince would want his lover for comfort once knowing that Estel had no part in his torment. The thought of the end to Legolas’ enthrallment worried the Ranger, as he feared the effect that the stone’s removal would have on the laegel, but he also desperately yearned for it to happen, to extirpate the lies planted in the Wood-Elf’s mind.

Having finished dressing, the Ranger hurried behind Elrohir to leave, to see to his task of guarding Legolas. The twin peered through the cracked open door before he sighed and shook his head, flinging the portal open to say, “You are too late.”

Not sure what Elrohir meant, the human’s sudden unease caused his heart to race. He had no reason to believe that his lover was in any danger this morning, but a presentiment of anxiety filled him anyway. “What Elrohir?” he asked and tried to push the twin from the way, to ascertain what was happening.

“Too late for what?” he heard Kalin say from outside in the hall at the same time as he spoke.

Elrohir laughed lightly and walked out into the corridor, giving Estel the room to join him. Outside the Prince’s door, his hand in the air as if to strike the portal, Kalin had stopped at hearing Elrohir’s odd statement. Elrohir’s spirits were high this morning, as he anticipated an end to his Wood-Elf friend’s suffering, or so it seemed to Estel. “Too late to wake Greenleaf. He is gone already,” the Noldo told the sentry with another mirthful laugh. “I have wondered where you were, Kalin, and now here you are. Legolas left only moments ago.”

The sentry was not as amused as Elrohir by the situation, not when his Prince’s safety was in doubt. Striding the few steps across the hall and to Elrohir, his worry evinced by the harried tone of his voice and the abrupt albeit nonthreatening way in which he seized Elrohir’s forearm, Kalin asked, “He was supposed to lock himself in his chambers until I returned. Where has he gone? Who is he with?”

“Calm, Kalin. I was here in Estel’s rooms, close enough to the door to hear, when Ninan came to wake the Prince, telling him that his King required his presence. With the aid of his cane and Ninan, Greenleaf walked down the hall and to his father’s room, I would assume,” Elrohir appeased the Wood-Elf sentry, who then released the twin’s arm with a relieved nod of his head.

Aragorn inhaled deeply. He did not like that Legolas was with the King and had only Ninan to safeguard him, but more than that, the Ranger felt a dread that he had not felt since the day Mithfindl had attacked Legolas in the forest months ago upon their arrival in the valley, after their ordeal with the merchants. He had been worried for the Prince countless times lately, for in fact, his worry rarely ceased, but he felt now that something horrid was about to happen, something that he could stop if only he could figure out what it might be. Although quite certain that Kalin still did not trust him as he once did and also that Kalin would not be happy to know that he had planned to trail Legolas, he admitted to the Prince’s sentry, “I was just leaving to keep watch over him, to ensure that he was not left alone by Ninan – at least until you showed.”

He left unsaid that he also did not want Legolas to stay in his father’s company without someone nearby to listen for any indication that the King was taking his uncalled for wrath out on the Prince. Kalin did not seem upset at all that Estel had intended to follow Legolas, for he nodded and said, “Someone should stay near the Prince, I agree. I thought I would give him time to rest, not knowing that the King would call for him so early. I will go to Thranduil’s rooms and wait outside for him.”

“Our father told us that your King blamed Legolas for his being attacked, just as he has before,” Elrohir told the sentry, clearing the space between them to whisper almost inaudibly, just in case someone was to walk upon them and chance to overhear. Aragorn may not have mentioned it, but the twin did not plan to forgo forewarning the sentry, for he said, “I will not tell you how to protect your Prince, Kalin, but Greenleaf’s faer is weighted with enough burdens without his father adding to them with his cruel opinions.”

“Do not worry,” Kalin told them, his adamancy in the safekeeping of his Prince a feverish glint in his cerulean eyes. “The King may have ordered no guards for Legolas, but I will follow him around as his friend. He will not be alone today. And I will listen at Thranduil’s door or find my way within if I can.”

“Listen,” Elrohir told the sentry, who did not know of Elrond’s decision to confer with the King about Legolas’ enthrallment, “our father will seek out your King this morning to ask his permission to remove the periapt from Legolas, after explaining to Thranduil what is occurring.

“Then Legolas will  be free of it today, for the King will never allow the Prince to be bound to anyone’s will but his King’s,” Kalin replied, impatiently looking down the hall where beyond into the next corridor Thranduil’s rooms were located, appearing as if he might take off running at any moment to be there by his Prince’s side.

At this odd statement, Estel was reminded of his worry last night that the King would seek to use the periapt for his own control over Legolas. But Elrond would never allow such a thing to happen, he knew. And yet, Kalin’s easy acceptance that the King should have such control over the Prince did not sit well with the Ranger. Although knowing that Kalin would be with his Prince relieved the human of some of his worry for Legolas’ well-being, his trepidatious boding of imminent tragedy only grew.

“Well, then, brother,” he told Elrohir, eager to do something that would help Legolas, “let us seek out Elladan and find out what we can. If this ends today, I want to be sure that Mithfindl is accounted for when our father metes out justice.”

This time, when Elrohir smiled, Kalin and Estel joined in his optimism. The two brothers went one way down the hall while Kalin went the other, all of them intent on doing what they could to finish the Prince’s torment.

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As he was bid, Ninan aided his Prince into the King’s guest chambers. Legolas could barely see his father where the King sat on the couch before the now dead fireplace. With the morning, all the candles and lamps were extinguished but the light from the open balcony doors in the bedroom beyond seemed overwhelmingly bright to him. When his eyesight failed him, he followed the sound of his father’s voice and with Ninan’s arm in hand, shuffled farther inside the room.

“Shut the door, Ninan, if you would, and leave us for now,” his father instructed politely but decisively to the sentry.

As usual, the sentry did not hesitate to follow his King’s commands and bowed slightly before doing as he was told, although he was reluctant to pull his arm out of the failing Prince’s grasp. Legolas heard the click of the door as it was shut and knew then that he was alone with his father. He tried to put the cane under him more firmly so that he could walk closer to where his father sat. He made it no more than two steps before his Ada was at his side. Surprisingly, the King took the laegel’s arm to support him as he walked.

“Eru’s ass,” Thranduil intoned sharply, hissing, “I thought after all these years of you coming to the valley to flee me and your responsibilities that you would at least be safe here.”

 _He almost sounds concerned,_ the Wood-Elf Prince thought, but was too worn to hope that this thinly veiled insult carried true worry. His Ada helped him to sit on the couch and then took the seat on the opposite end, both of them unknowingly sitting just where they had the night of the feast, when Mithfindl had plied them with wine and poppy.

“You look no better than you did this morning,” his father complained. The younger Elf situated himself so that he could face the King while he scolded him, and his Ada continued, “But if you have found some sleep, then I suppose the rest can wait.”

His father’s hair was still damp from the bath he’d taken upon his awakening. Dishes from a meal were stacked on the mantel, meaning that the King had finally eaten something more than the dribbles of broth the Prince had given him during his insentience. Dressed in fresh trousers and a simple silk undershirt, which was overlaid with a finely made dressing gown, Thranduil was as salubrious and kempt as he normally was. _He looks as if nothing happened,_ the laegel thought with dismay. It wasn’t that he desired his father to be bruised or suffering, as was he, but the King had little evidence upon his own person of his being attacked, which made it all the harder for Legolas to convince Thranduil that he had been and was still in danger. _I will never sway him to leave the valley anytime soon._ Although Estel had not taken the laegel’s offer to extend the time given to make the King leave, the Prince was not assured that the Ranger would not still see through his threat to Thranduil if he and his retinue were not gone by the time allotted.

Without further mention of Legolas’ poor appearance, the King sighed heartily. “Ninan has told me what has happened, Legolas, at least as much as he knew. He explained what I did not give you the chance to explain, not with Elrond in attendance. You must understand,” his King went on to clarify, “that I could not just continue to let you accuse Elrond’s fostered human son, not since you said you had no proof and had not even seen him. It is unwise to cast blame on one’s host, especially one as powerful as Elrond.”

He did understand this. The young Silvan was relieved to know that this was in part the cause of his father’s disavowal and insults. Legolas saw the wisdom in his King’s explanation, even if he wished his father had taken his side against Elrond. He said nothing in return, allowing the King to say his piece. “Ninan told me that you sat by my bedside constantly, except when you were resting after you had been attacked. He also told me that in your grief and frustration, you became incorrigibly irate, and that he and Kalin tied you to the bed out of fear that you had lost control and might be of danger to yourself.”

At this, the Prince turned his attention away from his Ada and to the arm of the couch. He could not look his father in the face when the King seemed intent on revisiting every detail of his misfortunes from the last two days.

“Do not worry,” his father said, leaning across the space between them to pat his son’s hand, which rested on the cushion by his leg. “I told Ninan never to tie you again without my or our healers’ consent.”

“It is fine,” he told his father. The sentry had thought his Prince would complain to his father about his treatment by the sentry, but the notion had never crossed Legolas’ mind. He felt foolish that his Ada had needed to remind Ninan of his place, for it only showed that Ninan did not hold the same esteem for Legolas as he did Thranduil. But then, as the Prince had not been entirely reliable as of late, the laegel could hold no grudge against Ninan. “He thought he was protecting me from myself, I suppose. It is fortunate that Kalin disagreed and left to fetch Elrond when he did.”

Intrigued by this, as Ninan had not revealed to him how dire his son’s condition had been, Thranduil cleared his throat with a gruff grunt, and then asked, “Why is that, Legolas?”

He had not intended to reveal to his father his sorrow, but did so now that he’d started, saying, “Estel tied me when he beat me. The merchants tied me, as well, Adar. To be tied brought back memories that are better left forgotten.”

Thranduil nodded. The King was idly straightening a crease in his trousers from where they had been folded during his travelling to Rivendell, only to flatten the fold out then pinch the wrinkle once again. “Ninan said that you did not trust Elrond, but yet you seem to trust him now.”

It was not a question but the Wood-Elf Prince answered, “You were not awake. Kalin seemed not to believe me; perhaps he still does not. Ninan believes Estel’s guilt, but he took no orders from me, nor did Kalin or the other sentries. Our people looked at me as if I had gone mad. I was bereft, Ada, with no one to whom to turn. Elrond may not believe that Estel has caused the events of the past few days, but I know that he means me no harm, if nothing else.”

He had never spoken to his father about such personal matters, not about his grief, his Minyatar and second family, nor the details of his ordeal with the merchants, save for the explanation he had given the King concerning the scar the night he had told his King he was leaving for Imladris. Telling his father now of how his being tied had dampened his will to live made his stomach turn nervously. Usually, showing any sign of weakness in front of the King was only an invitation for ridicule and chastisement. He had no one else to whom to speak, though, and if his father thought him weak, then likely his father was right, anyway. Despite his saying otherwise, Kalin did not believe the Prince when he accused Estel. Kalin had not said this, but having known his sentry for millennia, Legolas did not need Kalin to admit it – he could tell by the way that his sentry spoke that he still doubted his Prince. No one trusted him. If the other sentries believed in Estel’s guilt, it was for their own reasons, not because Legolas had accused him.

When his father said nothing but only watched him with abnormal, kind patience, Legolas was compelled by the silence to say, “Which is why I am glad you are awake now. Although I hold Elrond dear, he would side with Estel over me, insisting Estel is innocent. Now that you are awake, our people are not leaderless during this touchy situation.”

“You have always looked at Elrond as another father, have you not?” the King asked with no acrimony or jealousy. In fact, he seemed satisfied when he said, “It is well that Kalin procured him for you, as I was not there to take care of you.”

His Ada had never been the one to care for him. When young, his Naneth had been his keeper, the one to tuck him in at night, and the one to tell him stories. After her death, he had also had teachers, minders, and then sentries to look after him until he had grown old enough to look after himself. Yet, he would never remind his father of his failings. When recovering in his homeland after Kane’s death, after Estel and the twins had been forced to leave the forest, his King had come as close to being a good father to him as he had since the Prince was an Elfling. His father had done all that he knew to do to ensure Legolas’ survival and the laegel had not forgotten it. Upon leaving his father for Imladris months ago, he had thought he might never again know his Ada’s affection and love, being that he had ostensibly shunned the King and the efforts that his father had made.

Legolas had sat beside his Ada during his strange sleep, hoping for his King to wake so that he could turn to his father for the guidance he needed. Now, perhaps, his Ada might offer it to him without resentment.

“I wish that I could recall what happened the night of the feast. Being that neither of us can, I suppose that we have no proof of the Ranger’s involvement. Except that you say that he told you he had tried to poison me, while he accosted you?” the King asked of him. Unwilling to tell his father under what circumstances that Estel had made this admission, Legolas only nodded, causing Thranduil to placate, “If you say that the human has told you this, then why would I not believe you? You are hurt most by his guilt, as you love him. When you told me of this earlier, I did not know all the facts and thought you a liar, my son, and I am sorry for it.”

So unreal did this seem that the Prince was temporarily at a loss as to how to respond. His head snapped up and he faced his father, which caused the room to spin as his throbbing head protested the sudden movement. Apologies from the King were rare, especially those made to the Prince. Finally, Legolas said once more, “It is fine, Ada.”

Hesitating briefly, the King scooted from his seat at the end of the couch to move to the middle, where he was nearer to the Prince. The proximity of his father should not have worried him, not since he was fairly sure that the King would not beat him to death in Elrond’s house. By instinct, the Prince’s fear was roused. But Thranduil took Legolas’ forearm in hand, mindful of the bandaged and abraded skin there to ask, “You are certain that the human tried to poison me and then attacked you, my son?”

He almost agreed at once, but hesitated. _Estel did not do this, did he?_ he asked himself. Aragorn had told the Prince that he had not harmed him, and for some reason, Legolas could not disbelieve this. _He told me that he did it, yet he also said that he did not._ It made the Elf feel as mad as everyone seemed to believe him to be, this duality of the truth. To know both that Estel was guilty and innocent, to believe each absolutely, bore no relation to any confusion he had ever felt in his life. It was lunacy to know with certainty that both contradictory statements from Aragorn were true. The ache in his head grew evermore, as it had not once relented since first he had thought of all this upon his waking, and now mounted with rapidity as he tried now to give his father a decipherable answer. He could not explain to his father this discrepancy that was born only this morning, one that stemmed from Estel’s mere mention that he was not guilty of harming him. He never got the chance to answer his Ada’s question.

“Legolas, your nose is bleeding,” his father exclaimed softly, moving even closer to the Prince until their legs were flush and the King could easily reach his face. And indeed, his nose was pouring red once more. With the sleeve of his fine, very elaborate, and probably very expensive dressing gown, Thranduil patted at the blood, not caring, it seemed, that he was ruining the fine cloth of his robe. The King soon gave up trying to wipe the Prince’s face clean, as the blood did not cease its flow. “What injury is this? You have no bruises here.”

“I do not know,” he whispered and shut his eyes against the overwhelming ache of his head. Feeling his father’s hand upon his shoulder, the laegel pried his eyes open, though, disregarding the agony it caused, so that his King would not think he was being disrespectful. “I do not know anything anymore. Except that I was worried for you, Ada,” he told his father, tears welling in his burning eyes at the remembrance of the sorrow he had felt, but then a smile graced his features, for the tears were also of the joy he now felt to see his father awake and very much well and alive.

His father held his arms out and the laegel did not hesitate to enter them. The two days that the King had been insentient were two of the most trying days of the laegel’s long life, but not only because the King had been unaware, of course. Pressing his aching head into his father’s chest, the Prince tried to regain his breath, for he could not get enough air. He told the King, his words muffled against his father’s shoulder, “But now you are awake, and none of this matters.”

“Tell me what you want me to do and I will see it done. Tell me what you wish, Legolas.” His father sounded very much just as the Prince had hours previous when begging the Ranger. “If you wish to leave the valley, we will do so immediately. If you wish to remain, then we will do so.”

Never had Thranduil asked Thranduilion to make a decision such as this. He had expected his father to decry his worry and refuse to leave, but suddenly his King was giving him the choice. He pulled back but not out of his Ada’s embrace so that he could see his father’s reaction when he suggested, “I do not want for your reputation to be tarnished, should anyone think that you flee the valley, but Ada,” he said, his hand clenching at the back of his father’s robe, “I fear for your life here, and for the lives of our people. Let them say what they will. Go home, take our people with you, and then all these bruises will have been worth it, just to know that you will be safe.”

“So that I and our people can leave? You mean so that _we_ can go home.” Thranduil held his son out by his shoulders to look into his face, his glower not one of anger but of bewilderment. “Besides, why would we fear the human? He might have taken us off our guard the first time in trying to poison me, but such a thing would not happen again.”

“I made an agreement with Estel, Ada, to ensure your safety while you were unconscious.” Legolas did not wish to lie to his father, but Thranduil’s questions were growing ever closer to the awful truth that the laegel wished so hard to hide. He turned his gaze to the corner of the room, focusing upon nothing in particular, but just desiring not to see his King’s wrath when he told his father what he had allowed Estel to do to him. “No one believed me,” he reiterated to his Ada. “No one thought Estel could be guilty, and so he would have found it easy to try to slay you in your sleep. Even if he had not succeeded, how many of our kith would he have killed in trying? You could have been injured. And I had no guarantee of Elrond’s shelter, especially if your sentries killed Estel in protection of you. All of your lives could have been forfeit.”

Noticing that his son refused to look him in the eye, which normally would have resulted in the King reprimanding the Prince with words if not also with fists, Thranduil sat up straighter and he physically forced himself to keep control of his unruly temper. The King’s face had flushed with blood until it looked as rubicund as the thick, undiluted wine that Thranduil loved so dearly. “Agreement? What agreement did you make?”

He would have to tell his father everything. He would have to risk his King’s ire and disgust once again. For the first time since the night that his father had nearly tried to kill him in Eryn Galen, when he had fled the Greenwood to come to Imladris, the scar spoke in his father’s presence. _Will you tell him that you let another human tie you, beat you, and rut you like an animal?_ Legolas hung his head as he listened to it. The King understood little of his son’s grief, but he could see the anguish upon Legolas’ face, for he placed his hand upon the young Elf’s knee, trying to draw the Prince away from his thoughts and back to the present. At once, and much to Legolas’ astonishment, the scar’s hatred quieted. Legolas gasped in a deep but ragged breath.

“To keep you safe, Adar, to keep our kith safe, I agreed to Estel’s condition. He told me that he would let you and our people leave the valley without further attempts against any of your lives, if I remained here.” Hoping that his father would not require more elucidation, the Prince was disappointed immediately.

Shaking his head, as confused now as he was earlier when Legolas and Elrond had told the King of the past few days, Thranduil queried, “Why would you stay here? Does he think he can poison your father and beat you nearly to death, and yet still think that you will gladly remain by him?”

Underlying Thranduil’s question was a suspicion that the Prince heard immediately, for he could tell that his father believed that his son was fey enough to do that very thing; that Legolas was so insensible from grief that he would love the Ranger despite what he had done. In this, his father was not wrong, however. The nadir of his torment had yet to be told to his King and the Prince was reluctant to tell it. The aberrant concern and affection Thranduil had shown him this morning would be withdrawn the moment that he confessed what he had allowed Estel to do to him.

“He wants to keep me here for other reasons,” the laegel whispered. He forced himself to look into his father’s face. If he had to tell his King this, he would do it with as much dignity as he could muster. “Yesterday morning, before dawn, he asked to speak to me, and so I went to him. My trust in him and love for him made me blind to his true intentions until it was too late. He tied me. He beat me and confessed that he had been the one to poison you.” The laegel’s vision swam sickeningly, his skin becoming nearly lucent as his breathing began to slow. His anticipation of his father’s ire was almost as bad as the imminent beating would be. “I was a fool, Ada, to have ever trusted Estel, to believe that he desired anything more than my subjugation, as the Lake-town merchants desired. He told me that I am to remain here, to see that he had his fill, and because I did not know what else to do, I gave him my word.”

The Prince did not need to give further explanation, it seemed, for the King’s face, which had been ruddy with his ire, rapidly paled. Legolas had seen his father’s fury innumerable times before. In fact, the Prince was so intimately acquainted with Thranduil’s wrath that he knew more of his Ada’s different moods than did the King himself. From a single look, a solitary word, the shrug of one shoulder or the lift of one eyebrow, Legolas could ascertain in what sorry state that he would be leaving his father’s company, whether it would be words or fists flung at him ere his audience with the King was over.

“Legolas.” Thranduil did not look at him but did just as Legolas was doing in that he was unable to face the other. He looked across the room at some nonexistent object, at a mote of dust, at anything that was not the Prince. “Do you say that the human raped you when he beat you yesterday’s dawn? That you agreed to stay here in the valley to be defiled again and again, to be abused by this filthy human, just so that the rest of us would be safe to leave Imladris without his retaliation?”

“Yes, Ada. And yes, I told him that I would remain here,” the Prince acknowledged. “Because everyone thinks I am mad already, Estel said that everyone would forget my having accused him, that they would blame it upon my foolish grief. Already they think this and no one trusts my word,” he bitterly claimed. 

When his father moved on the couch, Legolas startled and nearly jumped to his feet in anticipation of his King’s violence. If Thranduil decided to pummel some sense and dignity into his son while thrashing the shame and idiocy from him, the Prince would not live through it. His rhaw could sustain only so much, while his faer was already eager to be gone from Arda. Yet, his father had only shifted in agitation – agitation that the Prince tried to soothe by saying, “But after you have all left, Adar, once I know that you are all safely away and on your way to Eryn Galen, I will come after you, if I can. And if I cannot, then I will die. It will not matter, once you are out of Estel’s reach. I am expendable but our people need you.”

Had Legolas looked up to his King, he would have seen his father’s eyes were not glinting with revulsion but wet with unshed tears. After the many, many years of his father believing that his son would choose Elrond and his family over him, to hear Legolas repudiate them and then say that he had agreed to suffering and death in the endeavor to save his father’s life – well, to Thranduil, no finer gift could his son have offered. It was perhaps the bleakest and oddest proclamation of filial devotement that Thranduil had ever heard; and yet, the King’s chest swelled with a strange, paternal pride.

“Oh, my son,” his father whispered, pulling the Prince tightly against him.

In surprise, Legolas allowed his father to take him into his arms in a kind, much needed embrace, although he stiffened at first out of fear that his King would rebuke him for his perceived folly. His need for this unspoken acceptance had been so great, the comfort from his father, who was the only one to whom he could turn in the Last Homely House for absolution, created within the younger Elf such acute relief that the laegel cried out softly.

A fervent, insistent knock upon the door interrupted them. When his father called out to see who was there, neither son nor sire rising to go to the door for neither was willing to let the other go just yet, Kalin came within rather than announcing himself, having been outside listening for any sign that Legolas was being abused, just as he had promised Estel and Elrohir that he would. He had heard the laegel’s distressed sob, and thinking that his King had hurt his Prince, Kalin had decided to see for himself how Legolas fared. It wasn’t until Thranduil released Legolas and twisted in his seat to see whom his silent visitor was that the laegel noted that it was his sentry standing in the doorway.

Firstly, the sentry gauged the state of his Prince, and seeing Legolas’ nose had been bleeding and his face covered in drying claret, Kalin came into the room purposefully, his concern for Legolas’ well-being ameliorated upon seeing him in his Ada’s arms and not beneath his fists, but now focused on this new task of seeing him tended. Secondly, he went straightaway to the pitcher of water and the towels sitting nearby, wetting one and coming to kneel before the Prince. As he began to wipe at the blood on his Prince’s face, Kalin belatedly told them, “I am sorry to interrupt, but I came looking for Legolas.”

“Kalin,” the King said gruffly. Thinking that his father was angered at his sentry’s disturbance of their conversation or because Kalin was obviously ignoring his King’s demand that he not follow the Prince for protection, Legolas opened his mouth to argue on Kalin’s behalf, but Thranduil held one hand out to the laegel to quiet him. “Kalin,” Thranduil began again, watching as the sentry went about his self-appointed task without halt, though whatever the King had meant to say came to a halt, instead, for Thranduil was not accustomed to being ignored.

The sentry only paused a moment to look at his King before resuming his task, saying, “Yes, your Majesty?”

He patiently let Kalin wipe his face clean of blood, realizing that his father might become enraged that he sat there like an Elfling while his sentry coddled him, and furthermore, Thranduil would take his aggression out on Kalin for disregarding him. However, his King seemed neither irate nor aggressive when he told his sentry, “Kalin, I wish to thank you.”

This, at least, made Kalin stop his task. His hand out in midair with the blood-dampened cloth, the sentry bewilderingly asked, “Your Majesty?”

The King shifted in his seat yet again, this time moving away from Legolas so that he would not be in Kalin’s way while the sentry saw to his Prince’s wounds. “From what Ninan has told me, you went above and beyond the call of your duty to the Prince, even disregarding orders given to you.”

The sentry turned to Legolas and at seeing his Prince’s worried face, smiled at the laegel reassuringly before he humbly but confidently said, “If you truly wish to thank me, my King, rescind your edict that I am not to guard the Prince. I cannot ensure his safety otherwise.”

Although Kalin had turned back to finishing his task, Legolas had a plain view as his father’s scowl formed and then fell away from his ageless visage, ere he smirked, telling Kalin, “I doubt I could have stopped you, anyway, being that you are here now despite being ordered to the garrison.”

His King’s words reminded the sentry of something. His head flashed around back to Thranduil for him to say, “I have nearly forgotten. Lords Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor are waiting down the hall in the sitting room, wishing to speak to you. I met them in the corridor and told them that I would ask you if you were willing to meet with them this morning.”

“Then tell them to come; don’t keep them waiting,” his father told the sentry, immediately adjusting his hair and clothing to present a regal appearance for when Elrond and his advisor and commander entered.

Giving his ailing Prince a quick examination to see that he had removed all the blood from his face, Kalin smiled with a good cheer that Legolas did not understand and fled the room to get the Noldor. Legolas thought that now his King would move away from him and restart his feigned disinterest in the Prince, telling himself, _At least I know that Ada believes me._ After Kalin left, Thranduil instead moved back to sitting beside Legolas and looped his arm through the younger Wood-Elf’s arm, holding it tight against his side and telling him, “Let us see what Elrond wants, then we will decide what to do.”


	42. Chapter 42

He did not know why his Minyatar, the commander, and advisor had come to speak to his father, but Legolas felt that whatever they might say would only serve to severe the tentative accord between Thranduil and Thranduilion. From the moment that Kalin had brought them inside the King’s sitting chamber, the three had been watching Legolas – not unkindly, but rather as if wishing he would leave. Indeed, after greeting the King and inquiring of his well-being, this was exactly what Erestor asked of Thranduil.

“If you do not mind, Thranduil,” the esteemed councilor requested with respect, “it would be best that we speak to you in private.”

“Anything you say to me can be said in front of Legolas.” His father held his arm around the Prince’s shoulders. It was comforting to have his Ada’s affection, but also discomfiting to have it, as well, for he was unused to any show of devotion from his King and especially so in front of others. “I cannot imagine you have come here to discuss anything else than the past few days, so surely what you will say concerns him?”

Instead of asking Thranduil again, his Minyatar turned to Legolas with a fond smile to say, “Greenleaf. Let us speak to your Ada for a short while first, and then we will come find you and we will all speak together.”

Kalin already had hold of the Prince’s arm to help him from the couch, although the Prince had yet to agree. Seeing that his sentry was eager to remove him from the room, Legolas had to wonder, _I have told Ada most everything, nearly convinced him to leave the valley, and they seek to undo his acceptance of what I have said._ With reluctance but unwilling to defy his Minyatar, he let his sentry lead him away from the couch. His father rose long enough to see that he was walking steadily enough and then reseated himself at the end of the couch. Erestor sat in the seat Legolas had just vacated, Elrond sat himself in an armchair just across from Thranduil, and Glorfindel went to stand by the dead fireplace. He noted the appreciative nod that Glorfindel gave Kalin, as if the commander was pleased that the sentry was removing the Prince, making Legolas suddenly doubtful of his sentry. _I told Estel and Ada both that Kalin has begun to doubt me. Is he now in league with the others in making certain that Estel suffers no repercussions for his actions?_ Being that the Prince did not want his human lover to suffer his father’s rage, either, the laegel could only hope that his Minyatar and friends would not turn his father against him in their efforts to plead Estel’s innocence, even while hoping that they succeeded in staying his father’s potential wrath against the Ranger.

Once in the hall, he noted that Ninan and Galendil stood a door down, speaking casually to each other about weaponry, and wondered if they would join the palaver of which he was barred from taking part. “Come then,” he told Kalin as he planted his cane under him and looped his arm through his sentry’s arm. “If we are not invited, let us go outside. I need fresh air.”

“No, Legolas,” his sentry told him, although at seeing his Prince’s surprised face he quickly amended, “I am sorry but Elrond asked me to sit in with them while they spoke to the King.”

His suspicions only grew. The laegel closed his eyes at the sudden dolor of having his faithful sentry faithful no longer. Kalin did not notice his liege’s sorrow, for he was already turning away to call down the hall to the other sentries, saying, “Galendil, escort the Prince.”

Galendil came to him and took Legolas’ arm, always eager to be of use to his Prince. Ashamed now, since while he did not mind Kalin knowing the extent of his weakness he minded overly much that the other sentries knew of it, the Prince did not complain but quietly nodded his acquiescence.

“Do not go too far and do not leave him, not even for a moment’s time,” Kalin instructed his underling, who dipped his head in acknowledgment of the order given. Giving his Prince a heartfelt smile of encouragement, the peculiarly cheerful sentry told him, “I will come get you. This will all be over soon.”

The words sounded ominous to Legolas, who found the ease with which Kalin had chosen to side with Elrond’s brood an ill portent. Yet, there was nothing he could do for it for now, so with Galendil’s arm in one hand and the cane in the other, the laegel hobbled as quickly as he could down the hall towards the family corridor, knowing just where he wanted to be.

As they passed the dim recess wherein the stairs’ landing was located, the Prince thought he saw a shadow in the gloom upon the lower landing and slowed to take a closer look. Galendil was not prepared for the laegel’s suddenly dawdling pace, and by accident, he pulled Legolas off his feet. The Wood-Elves both stumbled – the sentry because he immediately thought to ensure that his Prince did not fall before he tried to retain his own balance. Although Galendil quickly recovered and righted his charge, by then they were beyond the opening to the stairs and the Prince had forgotten about the shadowy figure in the deep crevices of the stairwell.

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It had been almost an hour but they had only just managed to find Elladan. Because yesterday Mithfindl had kept to his usual routine, Elrohir and Estel had assumed that the warrior would be on the fields with his fellow combatants, and so had headed there to check first for Elladan. They had not found Elladan, nor had they seen Mithfindl, but luckily, on their way back to the house to find Arnos or Hesiel to find out where Mithfindl had been last night or to locate Elladan, they saw their brother threading his way through busy servants to enter the massive kitchens.

Elrohir had no need to call out to his twin, for even as the younger said, “There is our wayward brother,” the elder turned around as if knowing that his twin was nearby. And perhaps he did know, for unerringly his eyes sought out Elrohir and Estel. It never ceased to amaze Estel when his brothers did this, as if they could feel their other half’s presence, or lack thereof, and one twin could often tell what his other was doing, saying, or feeling even when great distances apart.

 _Mithfindl cannot be close, else Elladan would be in the shadows or pretending to be about other business,_ the Ranger decided, thinking, _unless he has not yet found Arnos or Hesiel, wherever they might be in following Mithfindl._

They walked towards their brother with haste similar to how he walked to them, for the expediency with which Elladan came to them and the glower on his twin’s face caused Elrohir to mutter under his breath such that only Estel could hear, “They have lost track of Mithfindl.”

Indeed, those were Elladan’s exact words when they met in the middle of the small garden at the kitchen’s entrance, where the cooks grew their comestible herbs. The moment that he grew close enough to speak without having to shout to be heard by the human, Elladan shook his head in frustration, saying, “They have lost track of Mithfindl.”

Despite the bad news, Estel still snorted a brief laugh, which earned him odd looks from his brothers, who never found it peculiar when they evinced their synchronicity.

Between the three of them and with the help of the servants and inhabitants of Rivendell, they could surely find Mithfindl if Arnos or Hesiel had not lost sight of him too long ago. “When did they lose him?” he asked.

“Hesiel followed Mithfindl to his rooms, or so he thought. But he had to leave his watch to find Arnos to tell him where Mithfindl could be found, and during that time, Mithfindl left his room. Arnos kept watch over an empty room for half the night. It wasn’t until just a short while ago, when one of the servants knocked and entered to place fresh water on his wash stand, that Arnos learnt this.” Elladan rubbed at his chin, just as their father did when aggravated or thinking, and complained, “I knew that we should have paired them together, such that one would not need to leave for the other to find us with word of Mithfindl. It is our simple minds that have let him evade us.”

The younger twin mirrored his brother’s irritated scowl as he agreed, “Or we should have kept watch over him ourselves, with one of us always with Arnos or Hesiel. I do not wish to tell Ada that we do not know Mithfindl’s current whereabouts.”

 _Wonderful. Mithfindl could be anywhere in the valley._ Although Imladris was not terribly vast and more of an outpost of sorts, there were smaller houses of families and outlying lands farther beyond Elrond’s protective presence over the narrow valley where Elrond’s house lay, tracts of cultivated farm and pastures, vineyards and industry that supported the Elves and guests of Rivendell. Mithfindl’s father’s house and lands were among them, where Thialid grew his grapes and brewed his wine. The Last Homely House sat amidst it all, although not in the open areas as the other houses did but in a narrow gorge along the Bruinen, and with the aid of vilya was thus hidden from view to those who did not know how to reach it. It was at his foster father’s home that Estel looked as he thought, _Just searching the House would take long enough. If Mithfindl has gone to his father’s house, then it is at least half a day’s ride to try to catch him, but he could have gone anywhere._

However, the boon of living amongst Elves was that their sharp minds and long lives gave them plenty of time to learn and remember every visitor and occupant in the valley. Therefore, Estel imagined that it would only take a short while of asking questions to find someone who knew of Mithfindl’s whereabouts because someone would have seen him – a stable hand, a servant, or one of his fellow warriors, perhaps. They risked the warrior finding out that they were inquiring about him in doing so, however, which might cause Mithfindl to run, but it was a greater risk not knowing where he was.

Already the day was growing hot. The storm clouds of last night were still off in the distance, hovering over the Misty Mountains and obscuring the full brunt of the sun, but the day was humid and no air stirred to cool the human. He pulled at his tunic, where it had already begun to stick to his back from sweat. Stepping over a cultivated bed of mint, the Ranger walked with his brothers away from the house, where they could be sure to confer without chance of being overheard. He asked them his worst perceived plausibility, “Do you think he eluded them purposefully, or is it just coincidence that they have lost him?”

Elladan and Elrohir stopped, having not considered that Mithfindl would have guessed that he was the object of their spying. “Hesiel and Arnos would have been careful, but it is not impossible that he could have noticed their presence,” the elder twin told them. “I have searched the fields, the stables, and made several rounds of the halls and the library. Arnos watches over Mithfindl’s rooms still, in case he should return, and Hesiel is searching as I have been. I told him that if he finds Mithfindl not to let him leave his sight, as it is more important that he keep his eye upon him than finding us with news. Still, we should ask Glorfindel to enlist others in searching for him.”

The younger of the twins nodded in agreement, but added, “And we need to tell Ada, as much as I wish we could find Mithfindl first. Let us go find our father. He is likely in his study still, unless he, Erestor, and Glorfindel have already gone to speak to Thranduil about Legolas.”

They walked back towards the house, to the kitchen entrance from which they had just walked, each pondering on where Mithfindl might be. “Speaking of whom, where is our Greenleaf?” the elder twin asked.

Again, the dread mounted within the Ranger. Even though he knew that Legolas was in the relatively safe presence of Thranduil and Kalin, the human could not deflect the gnawing suspicion that his lover was in danger. Quickening his step until he was almost at a run, which caused his brothers to hurry, as well, Aragorn answered Elladan, “With his father, hopefully with Kalin at hand, also, as he told us that he would remain with Greenleaf to ensure his safety.”

The Noldorin twins might not have felt the same presentiment as did Estel, but they hastened their step, also, until the three brothers were sprinting up the back staircase and then towards the family wing of the house.

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As far as the Prince knew, all of Imladris may now be aware of the beating he had sustained, although in truth, none beyond the Silvan or Elrond’s family and two closest friends knew. Legolas had no wish to endure the stares of his Minyatar’s household and easily determined the best place for him to enjoy the fresh air and quiet of the valley. He would also not be beyond Kalin’s finding when his sentry came for him. And so, without conferring over it, Legolas led Galendil to the disused sitting room of Elrond’s family. They were both deferentially quiet as they walked past Celebrian’s sewing table, the great hearth, and shelves of books she had once read to her children and had kept for her children’s children, though she did not stay long enough amongst them to see that happen. Past the couches and harp they went, until they were through the doors and in the family garden outside. It was here, on the portico that ran along Elrond’s sons and daughter’s rooms and ended upon the Peredhel’s own, where Kalin had held his knife to Estel’s neck. In this small pleasance, where no one but Elrond’s family or closest friends would venture, the laegel was assured that he could relish the greenery and living things without onlookers.

On the dew slick stones of the portico’s floor, the wooden cane slid out from under the laegel, and although he had his sentry on which to lean so that he did not fall, the carved and beautiful length of wood slipped out of his hand and tumbled across the stones several steps away. With a sigh of self-derision, the laegel told his sentry, “This cane will do me little good if I cannot keep hold of it.”

“Better it to have fallen than you,” Galendil ribbed good-naturedly, letting go of Legolas’ arm long enough to walk over to pick up the cane.

While waiting for Galendil to fetch the walking stick, Legolas hesitated at the stairs, looking at them to decide if he could climb down them without mishap, when he heard a thump behind him. The Prince turned around gradually so that he would not twist his injured thigh and cause himself to fall. It took him a moment to apprehend what he was seeing. Lying on the tiles, blood flowing from the side of his head and tainting his auburn hair, Galendil seemed to have collapsed and struck his head on something while trying to obtain the Prince’s cane for him. Legolas noted that the wound was facing up, meaning that the sentry had not hit his head on the tiles but on something else as he fell.

“Galendil,” he called out, stepping carefully over the sentry’s outstretched legs so as not to trip in his effort to get to his fellow Wood-Elf.

Before he could place his foot down on the other side of Galendil’s legs, someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt. He had no time to react before he was thrown callously to the side, away from the sentry and thus the sentry’s weapons, and farther from the door leading into the house. Unable to keep his balance, Legolas fell with a soft yelp of agony, his knees striking the tiles with a bone-jarring thud that rattled his teeth as well as the myriad aches and pains of his already damaged body. He managed to place his hands under him, catching himself before he could fall face first into the stone, although ere he could even lift his head to see what or who had caused his stumble, a boot landed against his side. The swift and vicious kick stunned the Wood-Elf, who had expected nothing except peace and quiet in the garden. He curled into himself, clutching his ribs, which left the rest of his body open to further blows. His attacker made good use of this and with boots that felt to be toed with iron, drove another kick into the laegel’s unprotected belly and then chest, to his upper back when Legolas twisted to avoid another blow to his stomach, and then again, his assailant rammed his foot into the laegel’s side. All the air left the Prince’s lungs and he wheezed in pained attempts to draw in breath.

 _Estel,_ the Prince rued somewhat deliriously. _He has decided to take his requite after all._ However, now that his attacker had ceased for the moment, the Elf Prince opened his eyes long enough to see that it was not Estel standing over him, grinning blithely in enjoyment of the pain he had caused, but Mithfindl.

It did not occur to Legolas that the Noldorin warrior was here for any purpose other than to take his retaliation against the laegel for Mithfindl’s being shamed by Estel, by being beaten by the human. He might have commiserated with the Noldo, for they had both been bested by the Ranger, after all. From what Legolas knew, he hadn’t been near the warrior since that day in the forest months ago, when Mithfindl had assaulted him. It wasn’t until he glanced over at Galendil, slow in realizing that the sentry hadn’t fallen but had been knocked out with the bloodied brick that Mithfindl held in hand – a brick taken from the ones surrounding the beds of flowers at the edge of the portico – that Legolas felt to be in mortal danger. If Mithfindl had come seeking revenge for Estel’s misdeeds, he was not taking his task lightly.

“Have you fallen? You seem to be hurt,” the Noldo told him in mocking, feigned concern, teasing the Prince. Mithfindl laughed gaily, kneeling down beside the pummeled Wood-Elf. Abruptly and with no provocation, the Noldo slammed the bloodied brick’s corner against the Prince’s marred, aching, and already battered thigh. The scorching agony of the unexpected blow wrenched a momentary scream from the Silvan – his scream was fleeting, lasting no more than a second, because Mithfindl had anticipated this reaction. He slammed Legolas’ head into the stone floor under him ere the laegel could alert the whole wing of the house of what was happening, breaking open the Prince’s scalp in a torrent of silvery blood that flooded down the crown of his head and painted the back of his hair red, and also effectively silenced the laegel with the blow. The Noldo then twisted Legolas’ head back by the tangled hair at the nape of his neck. Mithfindl’s hand lit upon the periapt under the laegel’s tresses and he said, “Did that hurt? Come with me into the bushes, dear Princeling, and let me make it better.”

Without the poppy to subdue him and his fear for Galendil and himself working against the imprecated charm, the Prince was unfettered by the periapt and tried to pull away from the Noldo’s touch, but Mithfindl held on tight to the laegel’s hair and kept his hand upon the stone, saying, “Get up.”

Even then, Legolas tried to pull his head away. He tried to lash out at the Noldorin warrior in an attempt to free himself, but Mithfindl easily evaded him although he did release the Prince, who rolled over so that he could try to stand. In retaliation, the Noldo used the brick he still held in hand to pummel the Wood-Elf across his lower back, striking him several times with the brick’s sharp edge until Legolas fell back to the ground. The laegel was heaving for air, nausea inducing agony teeming up his spine and across his ribcage like a nest of spiderlings swarming up the web.

“Then we will have to do this a different way,” Mithfindl said with a zealous smile as he dropped the brick, rolled Legolas onto his back, and reached into his pocket for a phial made from the horn of a beast.

Time stood still for Legolas. He felt to be stuck in one hateful, never-ending moment of pain, at least until the sickly sweet taste of the poppy milk flooded his mouth, causing the Elf to gag, to cough, to retch to remove the medicine before he was forced to swallow it. Even without the prior knowledge of Mithfindl’s use of the poppy to subdue him, the laegel wanted nothing to do with the tincture. Mithfindl’s grip on his face held firm, his hand covering the Wood-Elf’s nose and mouth until Legolas could not help but to swallow the poppy just so that he could breathe once more.

When Mithfindl grew irritated, most people stayed from his path, for the cocky Noldo could see no one else happy when he was in a foul mood. His mood at that moment was as foul as it could possibly become. The Noldo wanted nothing more than to bury his aching, adamantine cock into the Prince's clasping entrance. He and Faelthîr had not planned it, but the Noldo could take it no more. His and Faelthîr’s plans had been compromised and if he were to be banished from Imladris and all Elvendom forever, or worse yet, tied up and shipped to the Grey Havens, bound for Valinor where he would face the judgment of the Valar, then he would enjoy his revenge to its fullest while he still could.

“Let’s go to the bushes, shall we?” the Noldorin warrior jested to Legolas as he pulled the drugged and beaten laegel by his calves along the portico. “Isn’t that where your Wood-Elf kith copulates? In the bushes with the rest of the animals?”

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They looked for their father and found him, Erestor, Glorfindel, Ninan, Kalin, and a very incensed Thranduil standing in the King’s sitting room, the door open. _But where is Legolas?_ the Ranger asked himself, looking between the group of Elves, who stood in an irregular circle as if they had been about to disperse, though in fact, they had been arguing and had quieted at the approach of the twins and Ranger, as they had not been sure of who came near enough to hear.

Without greeting, the twins and human entered the room, but ere they could ask about Legolas, Glorfindel inquired immediately, “Where is Mithfindl?”

Aggravated by their inability to be able to report the entirety of Mithfindl’s whereabouts, especially his current location, Elladan and Elrohir shook their heads simultaneously though it was Estel who answered, saying, “He eluded Arnos and Hesiel in the night.”

“He knows he is being watched, I fear,” Elrohir told them, while Elladan added, “Which means that he may act rashly.”

“Then we will search for him,” Erestor turned to Glorfindel, speaking to him as he said, “We will use the whole household and every sentinel in the valley, if we must.” The commander turned to Elrond, who gave his agreement with a single nod of his dark head. At once, Glorfindel strode from the room to see that this was done.

He had known that this meeting was to occur that morning and that his Ada and Thranduil would meet to speak of how best to aid Legolas; it seemed that it had already begun, for the King was uncomfortable and his mind was turned upon the topic of which they had been speaking. He was rubbing his hands together, as if they were cold, while gazing between those around him in puzzlement. Estel had no idea how much they had already told the King or what he had said, but being that Thranduil had not immediately demanded that Aragorn leave the room or be put in chains, the human guessed that the Elf-King was at least receptive to what Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel had explained.

Although he wanted to know of Thranduil’s decision concerning the removal of the periapt, the Ranger wanted most to know where his lover was. “Where is Legolas?” he asked them.

The Prince’s sentry answered, “With Galendil.” Kalin looked as agitated as Estel felt. Twice he began to the door, near to where the Ranger stood, as if he meant to leave. He took only a few steps each time before stopping. While everyone else was silently watching Thranduil, waiting for him to speak or decide, or do whatever it was they expected of him, the Ranger watched the Prince’s sentry. His own alarm was heightened at Kalin’s obvious unease. Finally, Kalin could be deterred no longer and so disturbed the hush, saying, “If Mithfindl is unaccounted for, then I want Legolas accounted for. I will go find him.”

“Galendil is with him,” the King said decisively, expecting that Kalin would not argue with him. Thranduil was absentmindedly fingering the sleeve of his dressing gown, where blood stained the fine cloth.

At noticing the rubicund mottles upon the King’s clothing and seeing that Thranduil himself did not appear harmed, the Ranger tensed. He thought, _Is that Legolas’ blood? What happened before Kalin got here to see that Greenleaf was safe?_ He hoped that the Prince had not suffered his King’s violence that morning because the laegel’s faer held only a tenuous grasp upon his rhaw.

Apparently, the King had not learnt the same lesson that Legolas had recently learnt – Kalin would not be denied when it came to the protection of his Prince, even if it meant defying his Prince or in this case, his King’s demands. “Yes,” the sentry contended, “but Galendil thinks that Estel has done this, as all of our people have believed since the Prince accused him. I fear that Galendil will not be watchful of a more adept attack upon Legolas, or he may see Mithfindl and think nothing of his presence until it is too late.”

Kalin gave the Ranger an apologetic frown, but the Ranger was not upset in the least at being compared negatively to Mithfindl. In fact, the sentry had brought up a good point. Galendil would be expecting to protect his Prince from a human – a human whose footsteps he could hear easily, who would be of lesser strength and with less experience than Mithfindl had in combat. Furthermore, Galendil and likely everyone else in the room had not expected that anyone would blatantly attack the Prince since subterfuge had been the means of the laegel’s subjugation thus far. But the stakes in Mithfindl’s game had changed and he was a renowned sore loser.

_If Mithfindl knows he was being followed and suspects that Ada knows of his plots against Greenleaf, he might flee the valley, or he might seek to finish what he has started as quickly as possible._

Knowing just where the sentry’s mind was going, the Ranger was suddenly of the mood to hunt down the Prince before trying to find Mithfindl, as well, and made to say as much before Thranduil interrupted, “No, Kalin, stay here. I want to hear the rest of this tale the Noldor have been telling, and you are part of it.” The King leant his rear on the couch’s back behind where he stood and crossed his arms over his chest, although he said in conciliation and with what the Ranger hoped was concern, “Ninan, go find Legolas and Galendil.”

The sentry left at once, and too late did Aragorn think to ask if Ninan even knew where Legolas and Galendil had gone.

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Facedown, Legolas felt his cheek and jaw scraping against the roughhewn stone of the patio under him, the blood from the sharp blow he’d received to the head left a trail of gore in his wake. He left the tips of two fingernails behind, as well, breaking them off to the quick when he tried to grab onto the stone floor with his fingers to stop his being taken. For now, he knew that it was Mithfindl who had him, although the Noldo had given the Prince enough milk of the poppy to render him nearly unto sleep. The slightest suggestion by the Noldorin warrior – with Mithfindl’s hand upon the stone, that is – and Legolas would believe whatever he was told, but so far, the warrior had not tried to hide his identity. Past the two doors to each of the twin’s side-by-side rooms, to the set of stairs located nearby, and then with a bounce of Legolas’ face against each rock step, the warrior pulled the Prince along until he was in the grass.

Here, the warrior stopped to listen as something rattled the bushes nearby, saying in relief, “Just the rustling of wildlife.”

Digging his hands into the soft dirt under him for grip, the laegel tried to pull his legs free during this moment of Mithfindl’s inattention to him – and he nearly did get loose, but in distracted animosity, the warrior thrust his booted foot into Legolas’ hip, his much beleaguered side, just under his arm, and then several times in rapid succession into the laegel’s belly, until bile, blood, and poppy medicines frothed from Legolas’ mouth as he retched into the grass. Suddenly, he did not need to struggle against Mithfindl’s hold because the warrior held him no longer. But just as quickly, a hand was placed on the back of his neck, upon the stone ensconced in his hair, while Mithfindl told him, “Do not fight me.”

At once, Legolas ceased moving, but wondered why he did so just from the Noldo’s instructions. He could feel the trammeling of his will and replacement with Mithfindl’s order.

As he grabbed the laegel’s legs once more, the Noldo went on to say, “Elrond’s sons and their friends have been following me, I know. If they have not already pieced together what is happening, then they soon will. But there is still time for us,” the Noldo promised. 


	43. Chapter 43

His eyes rolling around in his head, unable to focus his gaze upon Mithfindl, Legolas was hauled farther along, his arms now laxly dragging along with his equally slack body until they were at the tall, manicured bushes that grew along the rock face of the mountainside behind the house. The thin, flowered limbs cascaded down from a central branch and then fell to the ground in a circle, such that the plants took the form of a spray of water. It was under this swell of limbs that Mithfindl pulled him until both of them were now hidden. He lay on the bare dirt, the decaying petals of dead flowers and rotting leaves under him. A creeping bug ran across one of his gracefully pointed ears and above him bees lit upon the flowers in noisome busyness. As very young Elflings, he and the twins had often hid under these bushes or similar ones in this very pleasance, pretending that they were in different worlds or on adventures. The Prince could very well have been in a different world now, as disconnected from his surroundings as he was. Between his instruction not to fight, the drug that muffled his thoughts, and the torpidity of his broken body, he could feel his dying rhaw loosening its hold upon his faer.

“How long until they come looking for you, Princeling?” the Noldo asked him, expecting no answer, it seemed, for he continued his questions without awaiting one. “How long before your sentry wakes, if he wakes at all?”

Soon Mithfindl was sitting astride the laegel’s knees, his hands gathering the Wood-Elf’s arms to his body so that they did not stick out from the cover of the branches under which they hid. Though the bushes were tall, there was still little room to maneuver in the small space, so Mithfindl had to lie nearly upon the Wood-Elf for them both to fit. He told Legolas, “We must make this quick. It seems I have need to leave the valley ere Elrond sends them looking for me, if they do not already.”

With more haste than he had the last time, Mithfindl yanked at the ties to the Wood-Elf’s leggings, jerking the leather string free and then pulling the trousers down the Prince’s hips. The moment that Legolas felt the cool morning air and the mulched ground against his nude skin, he thought to renew his struggles but then, in his confusion, recalled that he had asked for this very thing. _I offered Estel whatever he desired to ensure my father and people would be allowed to leave the valley in their own good time._ But this was not Estel. This was Mithfindl. He could see the Noldo towering above him, at least until his attacker grabbed him by the waist and overturned him onto his stomach.

The Noldo took out the phial of poppy, which had a slippery, oily texture from the resin of the extract, and improvising, he spread it over his shaft in a quick motion. Mithfindl wasted no time, for he had only a few moments to spend in his torment of the Wood-Elf for now. Mithfindl did not even bother with a blindfold this time. In such a hurry was he that he did not take the same precautions as he had before, but still he tried to make sure that the Prince knew who it was that had him, who was soon to be buried to the hilt inside him.

“It is Estel,” the Noldo told him, one hand upon the periapt and the other upon his own slickened shaft, which he had burrowed against Legolas’ rear. With a single thrust, he entered the body underneath him, groaning in pleasure at the lecherous, rapacious act of taking the dying Wood-Elf against his will. “Can you feel me?”

He had not forgotten Mithfindl’s presence, but having been told that it was Estel who was now inside him, Legolas could believe nothing else. He could feel the Ranger, yes, but the Wood-Elf did not speak. He did not fight against Estel or try to avoid what the human intended for him. The poppy medicines had dulled his mind, the periapt had subdued his thinking, and the added injury to his body, especially the cruel blow to his head, rendered the Prince in a state somewhere between unconsciousness and absolute terror. He had thought he could live through this torment another time because he had hoped to achieve the goal of keeping his father safe by obtaining more time for him to leave the valley. Now he was not so certain that he would survive.

While the Noldo would have preferred to have the Prince on his knees again, with no space for it, he settled for pulling one of Legolas’ legs up, bending it at the knee and threading his arm under it, so that he could keep the laegel’s body spread for his attention. Even then, Mithfindl could not seem to achieve the angle he desired and his shaft barely breached his victim. With a growl of frustration, for his time was short and his need great, the Noldo flipped Legolas over onto his back once more, took the Wood-Elf’s thighs in hand, lifted and then spread his legs to make the focus of his destruction more accessible. Finally, he entered the laegel again, groaning a laugh as he finally submerged himself inside the unwilling Wood-Elf. He wrapped his hands around the Prince’s throat to keep him from making any noise as the pain of his being taken increased.

For Legolas, believing it to be Estel who had him, the longer his torment continued, the less attached to his life did he become. The pain was endless and vicious, the human spearing the Elf's body as if he could not be deep enough inside the Wood-Elf. The Ranger did not seem to be deriving any gratification from raping the Prince, but from the immortal's imminent death. It would be soon. Legolas felt nothing but despair. His breathing slowed – an effect of both Estel's constant choking but also of his lacking will to draw breath. He had retched up half the poppy he’d been given and the less poppy that was in his body the less he was able to divert his mind to the bliss of the toxin. Instead, it could only focus on the perpetual excruciation forced upon him.

When the Silvan’s etiolated skin turned nearly grey from the lack of air, Aragorn released his hold on the Wood-Elf’s throat long enough for him to pull in a breath, ere he began his choking and violent rutting once more. For a few moments each time this happened, the laegel found himself nearly losing consciousness, until his throat would be released again and his blackening mind would revive back to the torture under which it barely endured.

Mithfindl, the orchestrator of this perverse spectacle, had forgotten himself and was taking his pleasure too far; indeed, he might have killed the Prince, had not he found his completion much sooner than he had the last time he had abused the laegel. He  shook the laegel by his neck when he released his seed inside the Wood-Elf’s body, panting at the exertion, until he removed both his hands and his shaft from the laegel, letting the Prince’s legs fall inertly to the mulched ground on which he lay. Mithfindl replaced his own trousers, pushed the branches apart to peer out into the pleasance, and seeing that no one had come looking for them yet, snickered.

Legolas retained consciousness only because the Noldo placed his hand upon the periapt, telling him, “Do not die yet. Stay awake. We have something important to discuss.”

For the Ranger to have held him that morning, to have convinced him of his love, to have asked the Prince to trust him – all of which the laegel had foolishly and strangely done with eagerness – made his abuse at the hands of the human now all the worse. He had been duped again, like an idiot. He had willingly asked for this torment but Estel had thought of a worse excruciation by making the Elf believe that he had been wrong about the Ranger, only to show how right he truly was.

When the first blow hit him across the chest, the Prince knew what the Ranger had in hand – the same brick with which he’d beaten him earlier. Estel landed blows on any exposed part of the laegel’s body, drawing his arm back as far as he could in the small space under which they were, before landing the brick against his legs and calves, his arms and chest, and once he’d rolled over instinctually to protect his belly, he was struck in his back and rear. Just over a day ago, the human had beaten him severely, and now he beat him again with the same intensity but with less ferocity, as if hoping to blacken every pale bit of flesh of the Elf’s body but holding back enough to avoid breaking the laegel’s bones.

“I think your sentry is still alive,” the Ranger whispered, his voice sounding strange and not like Estel at all. “He missed out on all the fun, did he not?”

The scar added its own opinion, saying, _He could have joined Estel in reminding you of your true worth. You are nothing._

“Listen carefully,” he told the laegel, placing his hand upon the periapt.

Speaking directly in the Prince’s ear, the human gave the Wood-Elf a damning set of last instructions, his voice soft, low, and soothing, but utterly demanding. With the use of the imprecated charm and poppy, the laegel took in each command as if it were borne from his own volition. He would not forget what he was told to do, so long as the periapt remained upon his person.

With a madcap titter unlike any laugh that he had ever heard from the human’s mouth, Aragorn heaved the Wood-Elf’s trousers back up his hips, lacing them roughly while telling him of the instructions he’d given Legolas, “Do not forget, my whore.”

He opened his eyes long enough to see Mithfindl crawling out from under the bush. It was clearly the Noldo and not the Ranger as he had been told, as he had believed. In such a hurry was the Noldo to have the Wood-Elf that Mithfindl never thought to instill in the Prince the command to forget seeing him, to forget the poppy milk. So overcome in his desire to continue inflicting pain upon the laegel had he been that he had forgotten all else but to have his own vicious desires sated before he fled the valley.

The Prince ceased fighting against unconsciousness and instead tried to welcome the shadowy respite that threatened to overtake his mind.

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Aragorn soon learnt that the conversation his father had intended to have with Thranduil had not progressed beyond trying to explain the periapt itself. They had not yet told the King everything they knew of Mithfindl, of the timeline of Legolas’ torment, and of how they might be able to reverse some of the damage done. All in all, the Ranger was glad to have shown for this palaver, as he was willing to do whatever it took to see that Thranduil let Elrond do as he thought best for the Prince, and if anything he could add to the conversation would aid in their purpose, he would speak.

“This stone. If it is used on animals, how would it work on an Elf?” Thranduil asked. He was still leant upon the back of the couch. The King could not sit. His agitation was as great as the others’ anxiety, though perhaps for different reasons.

Impatiently, the Ranger’s body swayed from side to side as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He wanted to have Thranduil’s agreement to remove the imprecated charm, since his father had agreed with Glorfindel that they needed it from the laegel’s King, but he knew that Thranduil would need to have every detail before making his decision. The time they spent trying to convince the Elf-King was time they could be spending reforming the Prince’s shattered faer.

With a great deal more patience than his human son, Elrond seated himself in a nearby armchair to tell the King, “As I have said, it was used on horses, mostly, and lesser beasts without the same faculties as intelligent beings, but in conjunction with an herb or tincture that would undermine an Elf’s higher thinking, such as the milk of the poppy, it works much the same, working even for someone from whom your son would never usually take any direction, much less believe the lies of wholeheartedly.”

Thranduil uncrossed and crossed his arms the other way over his broad chest. The allusion to his son being trained like an animal did not suit the King, as well it shouldn’t have. “And you are sure that it is on Legolas? That it would work in this way?”

“I have seen it myself. It is within Legolas’ hair, tied against his scalp just above the nape of his neck. By chance,” Elrond said, his regret to have forced the Prince to submit to his will, even if by accident, evident in his quieter tone, “I touched the stone myself while asking Legolas to come to the apothecary with me so that I could see to his injuries. At once, he agreed and walked to the apothecary in a fugue of sorts.”

In support of the Peredhel’s claim, Kalin added, “I have seen it, as well. I saw the strangeness with which Legolas followed Lord Elrond’s request. I went with them to the apothecary and saw the stone for myself. I had just seen the same stones in the stables while with Lords Elrohir and Elladan, who were about their father’s business in learning if any of the periapts were missing. It was the same stone, my King.”

“Who would do such a thing, and why?” the King asked them, looking to each Elf in the room for an answer, though he gave the Ranger no consideration at all. “I have no enemies in the valley that I know of.”

 _Thranduil would naturally assume that it was only about him._ The vain Elf-King thought that his son was only an extension of himself and his own life and problems, not an Elf who had a life and problems of his own.

Estel stepped out into the hall to peer both ways down it. _Ninan should have returned with Legolas,_ he thought, although then considered, _perhaps it is best that this conversation occurs before his arrival._

Erestor once more took up the thread of explanation. “Glorfindel told us that you met and spent some time with one of our border patrol on your way here. An Elf by the name of Mithfindl?” The King did not answer or nod, but his face cleared of confusion only to be replaced with unease. As unflappable and stately as ever, Erestor stood formally with his hands clasped behind his back. “Mithfindl and one of the livestock healers, named Faelthîr, are the conspirators. For betterment of their circumstance and likely revenge, they have done this.”

“Faelthîr? Is that not the she-Elf that Legolas told me you have fallen for?” the King asked and turned to Kalin.

His fair face turning a bright crimson in humiliation, although it was not his fault that he had been taken in by such a sneaky, despicable ploy as that which Faelthîr had used, Kalin did not shirk the question put to him, but said, “Faelthîr gave me wine that we believe may have been drugged with the poppy, as well. I do not recall it, my King, but the Prince’s attacker knew specific details of his previous woe that no one else would know save for Elrond and his family, or me, and they would never share such information. Nor would I have,” the sentry said, his face turning impossibly red as his anger overcame his shame, “had I not been intoxicated by the poppy. Mithfindl used that information to convince the Prince that Estel was his attacker.”

His eyes wide with incredulity, the King wonderingly told them, speaking as if he were thinking aloud, “I only just told Legolas that I believed him. Ninan was sure of Legolas’ accusation because Legolas seemed so certain that it was the human.”

Estel thought to himself of the King’s statement, _Then he believed Greenleaf, but only because Ninan concurred with the Prince. He values Ninan’s opinion over his own son’s word._ It mattered little that Legolas had been wrong.

Thranduil rubbed at his forehead. In doing so, the King looked so much like Legolas and how he had rubbed his own head over the past two days that Estel was reminded, _The other stone is still missing. Let them not forget to check Thranduil for it._ He would not broach the topic himself. Unless asked a question, Estel intended to stay out of the conversation. He was amongst several of the most esteemed and erudite Elves in all of Middle Earth – his input was not necessary. The twins were silent, as well.

“So then you are certain that the human did not do it,” the Elf-King said to Kalin, who firmly agreed, the Ranger was glad to see.

With crossness, Elrond told the Elf-King, “The human’s name is Estel, and he is my son, Thranduil, so if you do not mind…” The Peredhel trailed off and took a deep breath before he could let his aggravation get the better of him. He changed their topic, defending the Prince although Thranduil had yet to bring up the matter of the disgrace to his King caused by the laegel’s horrid mistake, “It is not Legolas’ fault for believing it was Estel to have caused his suffering. He knew only what he had been compelled by sorcery to believe. None of us would have been able to do otherwise, had we been in his place. Every action or decision he has made the past two days was by Mithfindl’s command or as a result of being under his will.”

Surprisingly, Thranduil did not argue but took this information as fact, requiring no more convincing on the matter, nor insulting his son for being so horribly wrong about his attacker. His astute mind working through the information he’d been given, the King realized, “This Mithfindl, with the help of Faelthîr – they could have easily placed this ensorcelled stone upon me that night and had their whims sated. Why did they choose Legolas? What revenge would they seek against my son?”

The Ranger suddenly realized that the King would not know of Mithfindl’s accosting of his son in the woods months ago _. Legolas would never have willingly told his King._ He could only hope that learning of it would not give Thranduil more fuel for the fires of loathing that always raged within the King for his Prince.

Not yet broaching the topic of whether the King may have a periapt upon him, Elrond instead answered, “I would guess that you were the true target, or the original target, but Mithfindl has his own grudges against Legolas and Estel. When the Prince came here several months ago, after his being attacked in the woods, Mithfindl tried to force his advances upon Greenleaf, who in his grief and under the influence of the scar was slow to defend himself. He did not get what he wanted from Greenleaf. Not that day.”

To which Erestor added, “Mithfindl hates your people. He thinks of the Wood-Elves as ignorant and base, and when word spread quickly that Legolas and Estel were lovers, he assumed that the Prince would shamelessly welcome another lover, since he had taken a human one.”

While not a Wood-Elf himself, the King loved and respected his subjects – perhaps more so than he did his son – so it was with umbrage against this insult to the Silvan and not the inveighing of Legolas’ character that he confoundedly asked them, “So he seeks revenge against Legolas because he hates my people?” 

From where he stood side-by-side with his twin, Elladan spoke up, telling Thranduil, “My brothers and I found Mithfindl in the training fields the next morning, after learning of how he tried to attack Greenleaf.”

“We only meant to menace him,” Elrohir continued, shooting Aragorn a smile as he said, “but Estel lost his temper and broke Mithfindl’s nose. Mithfindl has yet to live it down that he was bested by a human.”

“Always my son’s protector,” the King softly rejoindered at Estel but not to him, for the King still would not look at the Ranger. Instead, Thranduil was looking beyond the doorway to the bedroom, wherein the light from the balcony doors steadily grew brighter as the day progressed.

“I for one am glad of it.” His nervousness no less than it had been before, Kalin was pacing the open area between where his King stood against the back of the couch and where Estel stood at the door. “Estel is the one who figured this scheme of Mithfindl’s out, with the aid of his family and friends. If not for Estel’s unwavering desire to protect the Prince, then we might not now know of the periapt. Legolas might have been under Mithfindl’s thrall for weeks, months, especially if he had convinced Legolas to leave the valley with you still insentient, as he had originally planned to do.” The sentry paused for a moment before he began walking anew, saying, “We have already seen what he is capable of doing. I am sickened to think what further damage he would have done given the opportunity.”

The King had not asked for Kalin’s opinion and was once more surprised at the show of belligerence from Kalin, who wanted nothing more than for his Prince to be safe, no matter who facilitated that undertaking.

“There is the matter of removing the periapt,” Erestor inserted. Elrond’s chief councilor knew the most of the periapt, for he had been the one to research it, so he was naturally the one to explain to Thranduil, “When used upon horses, the stones were removed after each session. If not removed, the stones became attached to the horseflesh. Already, Elrond says that the periapt upon the Prince is adhering to his scalp. In time, it will embed itself within his skin. Without its removal, the stone will eventually sink deep inside your son’s flesh. The longer that we wait to remove it the deeper it will sink, until it will become too dangerous to remove. We do not know how long that will take or what permanent damage will be done if it is not removed at all,” the advisor admitted with chagrin, for truly they were only guessing as to the implications of the periapt’s use.

Erestor looked at those in the room around him, giving Estel the impression that he wished Glorfindel was there for support. But after a moment of collecting his thoughts, Erestor continued, “And to be truthful, we do not know what will happen upon its removal, either. For the horses, some forgot what they had been trained to do, especially those who did not trust their masters. It is our hope that removing the periapt will remove Mithfindl’s suasion over Legolas, freeing him from his misgivings for Estel and for all of us who care for him.”

Slowly, the King’s arms uncrossed, slid down his chest, and then hung limply at his sides. With his head down and his freshly washed hair hiding most of his features, the King looked eerily like Legolas when he had come to the Ranger’s room to beg for more time to convince his Ada to leave the valley. “There is no other choice but to remove it, even if we do not know what may happen upon its removal. I will not have my son under the thumb of a witless cretin,” the King agreed easily, just as Kalin had predicted he would.

Finally, the Ranger spoke. “There is one way we can know what to expect.” All in the room looked to him, for none of them knew of what he spoke. Even the King watched him now. “There is a second of the stones missing, and if you were the intended target at first, then it is likely upon you. Let Lord Elrond look for it, and if he finds it, we can see how it affects you to have it removed.”

“That is a feasible plan, in truth,” Elrohir spoke up at seeing Thranduil’s instant glower at the Ranger’s suggestion. Perhaps the King thought that the human was insulting him in some way, or was merely insulted at the suggestion that he was under the spell of Mithfindl, as well. To stave off the King’s looming tirade at his human brother, Elrohir reasoned, “Greenleaf is physically injured. His rhaw is weak from abuse and torment.”

Elladan followed his twin’s reasoning to its end, saying, “And Greenleaf’s faer is on the precipice of severing its ties to his rhaw, for it has endured too much hardship in the past months, and most especially the past two days, while thinking that Estel was the one who hurt him and while living in fear for your life, King Thranduil. Whereas you are now awake and his fear for you is relieved, the supposed betrayal by Estel still weakens his desire to endure,” Elladan told the King, his voice growing softer as he spoke of Legolas’ suffering.

“But you are hale. Surely you can endure it.” Aragorn appreciated his brothers’ support of his suggestion. He had truly not meant to irritate the King and had hoped that Thranduil would agree to be the first to have the periapt removed so that they would know of how it affected the Prince, but also because he had hoped that Thranduil’s love for his son would make him desire to undergo it first.

Thranduil walked around the couch to sit on it properly, although he sat at the end with his back to the arm. “Then let us see. If there is a chance I am under some spell, I would have it broken immediately.”

Erestor and Elrond, unseen by the King, who had his back turned to them at the moment, smiled in tandem at the three brothers. _They thought that Thranduil would not agree to this,_ the Ranger knew, smiling back at them. _Although I doubt that the King does this out of love for the Prince, at least we will have a better understanding of the matter when it is removed from Greenleaf._

“I do not see how I could not have noticed a stone in my hair,” the King told them. Elrond began from Thranduil’s forehead, moving sections of the Wood-Elf’s light hair – just a shade darker than Legolas’ – in search of the periapt. “In fact, I have just bathed and found nothing unusual while washing or brushing it.”

“Nor would Legolas have found it, so thick is his and your hair, and the stone is flat and thin, meant to lie flush to the skin. When I checked you over upon Faidnil and Ninan being unable to wake you, I did not find the stone in your hair, though at the time I felt only for swelling rather than anything like a periapt,” Elrond said as he went about his task. Abruptly, the Peredhel pulled his hands away from the King’s scalp as if he had been burnt, which caused Thranduil to twist in his seat to look at Elrond. With knitted brow, the Imladrian Lord told them all, “Let us have quiet. If there is indeed a stone upon the King, I do not wish to be talking if I touch it. I do not wish to impart my will upon him by mishap as I did Legolas.”

No one had thought of that possibility. The Ranger grinned to himself in dark amusement, thinking jokingly, _I would that I could put my hand on the stone and set Thranduil straight about a few matters, such as treating his son like a worthless slave._ Of course, being that the King didn’t trust Estel in the least, it would have taken poppy or something similar to inhibit Thranduil’s distrust enough for the Ranger to be able to use the periapt, but then, the human was only daydreaming, anyway.

In absolute silence, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, and Kalin watched the Peredhel as his fingers crept through the King’s hair, leaving no lock untouched or unsearched. Aragorn had turned his attention to the hallway, his thoughts having returned to Legolas and to why Ninan had not yet come back with the Prince. _Kalin should have asked Legolas exactly where he was going, but since he had no clue that Mithfindl was on the loose, I suppose he had no reason to think his Prince was any less safe than before._ He fought the urge to sigh. A welling foreboding flooded his mind, drowning out all other thoughts. So acute was his fear for the Prince that he once more thought to leave, to perform his own search for his lover – this idea was abandoned when Thranduil harrumphed in displeasure.

“What was that?” the King asked of Elrond.

At once, Elrond removed his hands from Thranduil’s scalp before he answered. “That, Thranduil, is the second periapt.”

The King reached for the stone but the human’s foster father halted him by gently but firmly grabbing hold of Thranduil’s wrists to push them away. “Do not touch it. I have no idea what might happen if you do.”

Erestor came closer, wanting to see for himself the stone and where it was, while Kalin hurried to his King, also, asking, “What do you need to remove it?”

With his hand held out to Kalin, Elrond told the sentry, “All I need is your dagger.” A wide smile was upon the Peredhel’s face as he told them, “Luckily for you, Thranduil, when the stone was tied into your hair or since it was tied it has slipped away from your scalp and hangs loosely. You cannot be under its influence because it requires constant contact to maintain its hold upon the wearer’s mind.”

It might have been good news for Thranduil, but it was terrible news for the Ranger, who was hoping to have Thranduil be the trial upon which they could base the removal of the laegel’s imprecated stone. If either Wood-Elf had to suffer, he would rather it had been the King – and not because he hated Thranduil, but because as they had argued, the King was healthy and thus better equipped to endure the potential consequences of the periapt’s removal. _Now, when we remove the stone from Greenleaf, we will be doing so blindly._

“Hand me a cloth of some sort, as well,” Elrond asked no one in particular. It was Erestor who fetched a towel from the washstand and gave it to the Peredhel. Using the cloth to hold the periapt itself, Elrond slid the sentry’s knife against the lock of hair upon which the impossibly small stone was tied, cutting the tress just at the knot so that the small stone fell free from Thranduil’s hair and into the healer’s cloth covered hand. He waited long enough for Thranduil to look upon it, as he wanted the King to see the stone so that when they showed him the stone tied to the Prince, he would know that it was the same. Once Thranduil had seen it, he carefully covered the stone in the folds of the fabric, and then put the towel wrapped periapt into his pocket. “We will discover how to destroy these stones. I want them never to be used again, not on an Elf but not even on a beast.”

He could see the adamancy and ire in the King’s face, the outrage at him and his son being treated like animals needing to be tamed. The last of the Elf-King’s doubts were appeased; he would listen to Elrond, the Ranger was certain of it.

“I feel no different,” Thranduil told them. He stood and ran his fingers through the hair along his nape. A long lock of the King’s hair had been cut off with the stone, but it would not be noticeable.

“It could be that Mithfindl never had the chance to use it, or that he tried but his placement of it was poor, as we have seen, and being that it did not lay flush to your skin, he could not impart his will upon you.” Elrond held his hand over the pocket wherein the periapt lay, as if to keep the imprecated object from falling out, although it was safely ensconced in the deep folds of his robe.

He intended to begin his plea to Thranduil to let Elrond remove the stone upon the Prince at once, but hesitated when he saw that all those in the room had turned to the door. Of course, the Elves heard the footsteps of someone in the hall before he did, but as he was closest to the door, he saw first as Galendil came down the corridor, one hand held to the wall and the other on his head, where his face, hair, and neck were coated in blood. Aragorn ran from the room, prompting those within to follow behind him to see what had caused the human to react so.

Grabbing the sentry’s arms to steady him – for Galendil was shaky on his feet, his vision obscured by blood – Aragorn pressed the Wood-Elf to the wall so that the sentry would not fall forward if he collapsed.

 _Galendil was with Greenleaf,_ the Ranger realized, once his initial shock at seeing the injured Wood-Elf had passed. The Silvan’s skull was intact, although the skin there was not. It would require needle and gut to sew this broken skin and end the bleeding. Beside him, Elrond pushed his way past Thranduil and Kalin to get to Galendil.

Once he was sure that the Wood-Elf was not dying, and once his father had hold of Galendil to keep him from falling, he asked, “Where is he? Where is Legolas?”

Without giving the sentry time to answer, Thranduil echoed the Ranger’s question, although he did so in a booming shout that could likely have been heard the floor below them. “Where is Legolas?”

“The garden,” Galendil told them, swaying on his feet as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Elrond helped the sentry into sitting upon the floor of the corridor. “I am fine,” he argued, evading the Peredhel’s hands that sought to aid him, for the Silvan was more interested in ascertaining the welfare of his royal charge. “The Prince is injured. We were attacked.”

“What garden, Galendil?” Kalin barked, causing Galendil to wince as the loud noise hurt his head.

The befuddled sentry tried again to explain, telling them in disjointed sentences, “In the garden. Through the sitting room. Near Elrond’s chambers. I feared to move the Prince,” the sentry told them, meaning perhaps that he had been afraid in his dizziness that he would drop Legolas, but perhaps also that the laegel was too injured to be moved safely. “Under the bushes. Quickly.”


	44. Chapter 44

They took off as one down the hall towards the family wing of the house, leaving Galendil behind in the corridor at his own insistence that they do so. Normally, one of the twins or Elrond would have stayed with the guard, but none of them wanted to be absent when they found Legolas, for they all wanted to see what had happened to the Prince. The Ranger was lagging behind, letting the Elves go before him. Although he wanted to see his lover as much as the rest of them, he also feared to see the laegel dead. It would break him. The Elf had often said that there would be no life for him after Estel’s death – the human felt the same. Should Legolas die, his own life would have no importance. Legolas had been the light by which the Ranger set his purpose; without that light, his life would go back to dark meaninglessness.

It was because of his lagging that he saw Ninan as the sentry came from the stairs.

“Estel,” the sentry called. Ninan had not heard all of the explanation that Elrond and the others had given for Legolas’ torment and Estel’s innocence so still did not trust the Ranger, but he had seen his King with the others as they ran past the stairwell on their way to the sitting room and he was determined to find out where they went. Again, the sentry called out, “Estel,” although the human had stopped. “I cannot find Legolas. What is happening? Where is the King going?”

He did not have time to explain to the sentry what was occurring, but he did pause long enough to tell him, “Ninan, your Prince is injured and the King and my family go to see to him. Galendil is down the hall,” he informed the sentry. He had not liked leaving Galendil alone, and so told Ninan in hopes that he would listen, despite his lack of faith in the Ranger, “He is injured, as well. Go to him, please, and stay until my father or one of my brothers returns to aid him.”

Surprisingly, Ninan nodded his agreement and took off at a sprint towards the King’s chambers, outside which Galendil could be found.

By the time he reached where the twins and Thranduil were fumbling through the branches of the overgrown, huge bushes along the rock wall of the mountainside, the King had hold of Legolas, while the twins were holding the limbs back so that none scraped the laegel as Thranduil pulled him out.

They had lost track of Mithfindl and this was the result of their carelessness. Certainly, it had been Arnos and Hesiel to have done it, but the twins felt that they should have seen to the task themselves. Estel felt that he should have kept watch over the Prince, as he’d desired to. Even Kalin’s countenance showed the guilt he felt for not having left to find the laegel when he’d first worried that Galendil may not have the best information needed to keep Legolas safe.

With so many crowded around the Prince, the Ranger stood back, allowing his father and the twins room to aid Legolas, but also leaving space for Thranduil to be near his son. The King was sitting on his heels at the Wood-Elf Prince’s head, while Elladan, Elrohir, and Elrond were crouched down around Legolas, moving together to check the laegel first for mortal injury. As he was wearing all of his clothing, there was little to be seen by way of sources for the blood that covered him, other than the seeping red occurring from the Wood-Elf’s head. The shirt that Greenleaf wore was ruined with blood but there were no stab wounds or such.

From where he stood behind the others, the Ranger knew at once that they would find that Legolas had been beaten again. The most damning evidence for this was the brick that lay just beyond the cascading limbs of the bushes. Said brick was bloodied, making the Ranger cogitate, _This is likely what Mithfindl used to knock Galendil in the head. Mithfindl had to have snuck upon them, which means he was hiding in this part of the house, awaiting his opportunity to get Legolas alone, whether to further his plans or merely to torment Greenleaf again. Mithfindl must find gratification in inflicting pain,_ the Adan seethed. _Galendil must have been unconscious while Legolas was being beaten, he must have been taken by surprise, else Galendil would have fought to his death to protect the Prince. But why was Greenleaf under a bush?_

He was impatient to get near the Prince but still he held back from inserting himself between the busy healers. Around the Elf’s mouth, blood and a strange froth painted Legolas’ lips and chin. He pointed this out to Elrohir, who was closest to the laegel’s head, by saying, “Has he been drugged again?”

Elrohir leant forward and smelled the sickness on the younger Elf’s face. He agreed with Estel’s assumption, telling them all, “His breath smells of the poppy. I believe he has been drugged, yes, although at least part of it he has retched.”

Placing a hand upon the Ranger’s arm, Erestor gently tugged at him to get his attention. When the Adan turned to the advisor, he saw what Erestor was looking at and went to look for himself. His hurry to get to Legolas had precluded his interest in the rest of the garden, but now he followed the advisor’s line of sight first with his eyes, then with his feet, walking the path that was left upon the manicured grass. From the bush where Legolas lay to the steps that led up to the section of the patio between Elrohir and Elladan’s rooms, the grass was flattened and stained with his lover’s blood. He followed it with Erestor a step behind him. In the middle of the grass, he found a distinct splatter of retch and poppy and more blood. He also found several long furrows in the soft dirt and areas where the grasses had been yanked up by the root.

 _Mithfindl pulled him by his feet or legs. Greenleaf tried to free himself,_ he deduced, his chest tightening at the imagining that these clues brought. Onwards he went to the steps, where there was more blood, and then to the stone tiles of the portico, where there was a more distinct trail of the rubicund essence. He followed it nearly to the door to the sitting room, halting halfway to kneel upon the stone to inspect part of the tile. A line laid amidst the blood where the topmost, dirty part of the stone had been scratched away to show its original color underneath. It was here that he found the laegel’s broken fingernails. _Legolas tried to claw his way out of Mithfindl’s grasp._

He held the two fingernail pieces between his thumb and index fingers, pressing them hard enough that he unknowingly cut himself upon them. As he walked to the door with Erestor still following him, the Ranger paused long enough to look to where his family, the King, and the sentry were hovering around Legolas. Seeing that his lover still lived, the Adan continued his inspection. Before the door to the sitting room, blood had pooled next to the laegel’s cane. From the pattern of the liquid, he thought it to be Galendil’s, for it never came close to the trail of blood leading to his lover.

 _Mithfindl hit Galendil over the head, knocking him out. Either he did the same for Legolas, clobbering him to quiet or knock him out, or he immediately used the periapt to subdue him._ Sticking his hand out to place against the cool rock of the outside of the house, Aragorn closed his eyes against the unwelcome image of Legolas being beaten once more. The last time that Mithfindl had access to the Prince, Legolas had received more than a beating, and it was this thought that made him open his eyes and turn back to where the others surrounded the Prince still. _Let Mithfindl only have pummeled him. Please, Ilúvatar, do not let him have been despoilt again._

Erestor placed a hand on the human’s back, between his shoulder blades, and promised him, “Glorfindel looks for Mithfindl as we speak, Estel. He will not stop until he is found.”

Glorfindel would make it his personal crusade to find Mithfindl and bring him to Elrond for justice. For the moment, the Ranger cared more that Legolas lived than if Mithfindl was ever caught. But he nodded at the encouragement.

He could take it no longer. He needed to touch his lover, to feel the Elf’s warm flesh beneath his hand to reassure him that Legolas was alive. Erestor still on his heels, as if afraid the human would run off on a vengeful spree of violence as he had in Eryn Galen months ago, Aragorn returned to Legolas. Elrond stood at his approach, wiping the blood from his hands onto the front of his sable colored robe. “He lives,” his Ada told him, “but only just. I feared his back might be broken, so bruised is he there, but I feel no broken bones. His abuse was thorough, however.”

Aragorn knelt down where his father had been, his hand immediately sliding over the laegel’s chest to feel the heartbeat underneath the Silvan’s thin shirt and diminished muscle. Rapid and soft, the Prince’s heart fluttered in his chest. Wanting to see what lay underneath Legolas’ clothes and what true damage had been done, since they had only thus far been ascertaining that the Elf’s body was not broken, he asked, “It is safe to move him?”

“Yes,” his father told him before telling Elladan and Elrohir, “go to the apothecary. Stop on your way to check Galendil.” Elrond need not tell the twins what he wished them to procure, for they knew what was needed.

He told them, “Ninan is with Galendil.” The Ranger held onto his lover’s hand, watching as the twins rose and then sprinted from the pleasance, back into the house.

Estel had been sure that during their conversation about the periapt that the King was feigning his love and worry for Legolas – he saw that he was wrong. Since hearing that the laegel’s back was not broken, Thranduil had taken Legolas upon his person, supporting the Prince’s head by laying it upon his bent knees. Tears streamed down the King’s face, although rage was set upon Thranduil’s features. When the King felt the Ranger’s stare, he returned it, and for a brief moment, Estel thought that even after all he had been told and the evidence shown him, the King still believed him to the culprit and would accuse him even now.

“You,” the King said, turning his full wrath upon the Ranger. Estel said nothing, nor did anyone else, and the peaceful pleasance was quiet save for the struggling breaths of the dying Prince on the ground between them. “You killed the wine merchant for treating Legolas much less cruelly than this. Will you kill Mithfindl now?”

He did not hesitate to answer, although he wasn’t sure what underhanded opinion the King would form from his forthright and callous response, “Mithfindl’s life was forfeit the moment he assaulted Greenleaf.”

For once, the King did not sneer derisively at the Adan, nor make any snide remarks to him. Instead, with a subtle camaraderie – for they had the same goal in seeing Mithfindl die, it seemed – Thranduil nodded at the Ranger. “Then at last we share common ground.”

“Come,” Elrond told them, touching Kalin and Estel on their shoulders to get them to move back. “Let us take Greenleaf to his room where I can see the damage perpetrated.”

Aragorn would have taken the Prince to carry if Thranduil had not insinuated his arms under the laegel to do it himself. Kalin helped to gather his Prince’s arms to his body where the King held him and Thranduil tightened his grip on his precious burden. The Elf-King told the sentry, “Kalin. Go ahead and make certain that the way is safe and Legolas’ room is, as well.”

When the sentry took off to do as he was bid, Aragorn went after him, walking more slowly than had Kalin, but his purpose the same. He stayed several steps in front of Elrond, Erestor, and Thranduil, ascertaining that there would be no more surprise attacks, although Mithfindl would have been mad to try to attack when he was outnumbered. It was a short walk to the laegel’s room, where at the door, Kalin waited. He told them of the Prince’s rooms, “They are empty.”

With as much care as Estel had ever seen the King show for his son, Thranduil laid the Prince on the bed. Legolas had not moved, moaned, or given any sign that he was alive, save for his ragged breathing. Immediately and with Kalin’s help, Elrond took off the Wood-Elf’s shirt, exposing the laegel’s chest. At that moment, the twins returned with a tray laden with ointments, tinctures, and raw herbs of various sorts – they had brought anything that they thought might aid the Prince. Again, he stood back, allowing his family to tend to the laegel, while Thranduil had taken a seat on the bed beside Legolas’ head. The King had his hand upon the Prince’s brow, his thumb playing across the bruise upon it in gentle sweeps. On the other side of the bed, Elrond was inspecting the young Elf’s head to see the cause of the blood that had congealed in the Elf’s hair, down his face and neck.

Now that the Wood-Elf Prince was laid out, the human noted how the laegel’s trousers were tied. It was a strange detail to notice, but having untied the Elf’s lacings almost every night for the past few months, he knew just how Legolas laced his trousers and the Wood-Elf had not been the one to do it. Legolas always knotted his lacings in a square knot, but now the lacings were tied like a bow. It was a simple thing to notice and yet, having seen it, the Ranger’s mind reeled at the possible reason for this.

_Please do not let it be._

He feared to bring it up. Even though he had been with his brothers and then in Thranduil’s presence whilst the Prince had been attacked, Thranduil still looked at him as if this were all his fault, as if the Ranger were the underlying cause even if not the attacker. He took Erestor’s arm in hand and pulled him away from the bed, to the bathing room. If the others wanted to hear his whispered words they could, but Aragorn hoped that they would be too busy with Legolas for now even to notice that he and Erestor had stepped away for the moment.

With tears in his eyes that discordantly grew with his hatred of Mithfindl, Estel whispered to Erestor, “See if you can make the King leave.”

Erestor did not know why the Ranger desired this but he noticed immediately the human’s lachrymose tone. “He wishes to stay by his son, Estel. Why would I try to make him leave?”

Closing his eyes, feeling the silent tears dribble down his stubbled cheeks, the Ranger explained, “Because I fear Greenleaf has been raped again. Thranduil lost his Queen to the same viciousness, did he not?” When the quiet instructions of Elrond to Elladan and Elrohir in the bedchambers ceased once they were all set about their tasks, the Ranger lowered his voice until he was almost mouthing the words with no sound, telling Erestor, “No father should see his son in such a condition. He can be told after.”

His pale face growing evermore so, the councilor did not need further persuading nor did he ask how Estel had come to this conclusion. Instead, he went back into the bedchambers and to Thranduil. Erestor gently tried to persuade the King, “Come outside, Thranduil. Let Elrond do his work.”

For his part, the Elf-King was just as frightened and worried as were they all, which the Ranger was gladly surprised to see. “No,” the King said and shifted his seat on the bed so that he was closer to the unconscious Prince.

Even now, Elladan and Elrohir were tugging at the Prince’s trousers at the cuff near his ankle, one leg per brother, while their father pulled at the waist of them to slide over the Wood-Elf’s hips. They hoped to slip the trousers off the laegel without having to move him any more than needed out of fear of causing him further pain. Elrond had noticed Erestor’s imploration for Thranduil to leave and must also have noted the evidence of the Wood-Elf Prince’s further defilement, for he stopped in his task and turned to Kalin with unspoken plea. The King’s attention was still on his son’s face, where he was running his fingers along the Prince’s cheeks now.

“My King, please. Let us go wait outside until Lord Elrond and his sons are finished,” the sentry begged Thranduil. Kalin would never have wanted to leave Legolas’ side but at Elrond’s pointed look, he had taken note himself of the cause for Elrond’s hesitation to remove the laegel’s trousers. The Prince’s sentry wanted to protect his King from the trauma of seeing evidence that his dying son had been misused so thoroughly.

The twins must have seen this, as well, for they stopped endeavoring to remove the Prince’s trousers and seized the blanket at the laegel’s feet, bringing it up quickly to cover Legolas to the waist, before they began to remove his trousers under cover of the blanket.

His qualms aroused at the sudden desire for everyone to want him gone and the twins’ sudden desire to hide the injury to his son, the King stood from the bed and asked, “What is it? What is wrong with him?”

“Please, my King. Let us go wait in the hall for a while,” the sentry tried again although his heart was not in it, for all could see that Thranduil would not leave Legolas.

Everyone in the room thought that Thranduil did not know of how Mithfindl had already debased the Prince, and so were surprised when the King asked with emphatic suspicion, “He has been defiled again, hasn’t he? As he was yesterday’s dawn? Why do you seek to hide it?”

 _Legolas must have told him,_ the Ranger thought wonderingly. _I did not think Greenleaf would ever willingly tell his father such a thing._ He had hoped to spare Thranduil the sorrow of having to see the evidence of Legolas’ mishandling by Mithfindl but the King already knew of the Prince’s torment the morning previous.

“We did not wish to bring you further grief,” his Elven father told the King, although he began to pull back the blanket they had placed over him.

At once, he feared the Elf would awaken, and would distrust them to know that they bared his naked form for all to see. “Wait,” he told his father. The Ranger could not help but feel protective, and he found himself closing the door to the Elf’s room in case of passersby.

That done, Elrond pulled the blanket down all the way past Legolas’ feet. With no clothing and no bandages, every bruise and mark upon the Prince was laid bare. The day old wounds that had been inflicted upon the Wood-Elf from his first encounter with Mithfindl had not healed at all. The laegel’s grief slowed his natural, typically rapid Elven healing, and his hardy body had been too damaged to recuperate quickly. He had thought the Wood-Elf bruised direly already, but the contusions to his lover now went beyond a beating.

Before, Mithfindl had used his hands and feet, and although he seemed to have done so again, many of the bruises upon Legolas’ body were made with the bloodied brick that they had found by the bushes outside. Several of these bruises would blacken in straight edges made by the side of the brick, Estel could tell. One entire side of the Elf’s ribcage was growing empurpled and soon to be ebony from the repeated blows, while his back and legs bore new marks telling the story of his abuse such that there were fewer areas of the Elf’s natural alabaster skin than there was darkening flesh. Legolas’ belly, which was usually muscled flat to the point of being nearly concave, seemed swollen and taut, the underlying soft tissues of the Elf’s viscera frighteningly distended. He had not felt the Wood-Elf’s body for himself and his Ada had not yet given his verdict upon the laegel’s condition, but Estel guessed that at least three of Legolas’ ribs were cracked if not broken.

Everywhere the Prince was bruised, but the single worst contusion upon the Elf had been made to the already marred skin upon the Prince’s thigh – the thigh in which the corporeal embodiment of his grief and hatred sprung. The skin there, having healed into a web of scars, was now the color of a rotting strawberry, although it would take the shade of a ripe blackberry within a few hours – if the Prince lived through the next few hours. The contusion to his leg would be the most painful, the human decided, for it resided just where the muscles underneath were still trying to knit together. It was obvious that Mithfindl had used the brick upon Legolas’ thigh, for the block had been rammed so hard into the laegel’s flesh that there was a small indent from the sharp corner. Mithfindl had purposefully struck the Elf here as hard as he could with the hardest object he could find.

 _Mithfindl took a brick to him,_ the Ranger wondered. As his eyes moved from one area of the Elf’s body to the next, his rage began to consume him, until he felt that he would go mad lest he find some worthy, unlucky soul to slaughter. Somewhat delirious with wrath, his mind abstractedly supplied again, _He beat him with a brick._

The rope burns from Legolas having been tied were still upon his face, the chafing on his forearms looked as if though the skin was peeling, so severe were they. Newer abrasions were made to his face, small bits of stone and dirt stuck within them, which the Ranger assumed were caused from the Prince being dragged along the stone tiles and steps of the portico while facedown. Upon the Elf’s knees were minor cuts from the patio floor, as well, and all of the laegel’s fingers were dark with embedded dirt and rock from his having tried to claw his body away from Mithfindl’s loathsome grasp, his fingertips abraded and bleeding. As he’d expected, since he’d found the evidence upon the portico, two of the Elf’s fingernails were torn to the quick, while the rest were jagged from his having tried to gain purchase upon the stone.

 _So desperate was Legolas to be free, he almost tore his fingers from his hands._ Momentarily closing his eyes to quell the tears that welled within them, his traitorous mind supplied him with the horrific image of Legolas clawing at the stone – the image surfaced behind his eyelids as if he were watching it happen and he quickly opened his eyes again to clear the visualization.

The bleeding from his head had stopped, at least. The Elf had either been hit from behind with the brick just as Galendil had, had hit his head upon the stone tile after falling, or Mithfindl had rammed the Elf’s head against the tiles. The wound was severe. Regardless of how it had happened, the break of the Wood-Elf’s skin upon the crown of his head had poured blood, tinting Legolas’ flaxen hair and besmirching his face and neck. The dirt and leaves from his being dragged and from being under the bush were stuck within all this gore. Aragorn knew from his father’s telling him the previous morning in the apothecary, when he had recited for them the extent of damages to the Prince, that the Elf had at least two more hard knots upon his head from falling into the footboard of the bed and from being struck upon his crown during Mithfindl’s first assault upon him.

Just as he had before dawn the day previous, Mithfindl had put his hands around Legolas’ neck to strangle the breath from him and keep him quiet. Elrond had told his sons that the Prince’s attacker had nearly ruined Legolas’ throat. From the rasping, strangled sounds of his lover’s breathing, Mithfindl had nearly succeeded this time, also. 

And then, there were the insidious injuries made upon the Wood-Elf from his being raped. He had not seen the Prince below the waist yesterday, so did not know old from new, but all the injuries looked as freshly made as the others. In the shape of fingers, contusions laid along the laegel’s slim waist, each bruise ended with the crescent shaped cut of a fingernail that had dug into the meager flesh upon Legolas’ hips. The bruise that had formed in the shape of a line, the one that his father had told him of the day before, had no doubt come from the chair in the room, just as Estel had deduced. Mithfindl had laid the Ranger’s lover over it to defile him. Similar lines of contusions lay inside the Elf’s thighs from where he’d been forced over the chair, his thighs bearing the brunt of his and his attacker’s weight upon the legs of the chair. More finger shaped bruises were under the Elf’s thighs, as if Mithfindl had held the Prince’s legs aloft while abusing him.

As if all of these harms did not already tell the story of Legolas’ torment, the most glaring evidence that the Wood-Elf had been defiled once more was the blood and seed upon Legolas’ inner legs, near to the juncture of the young Elf’s body.

It may have only been a few moments, but to Aragorn, the time he spent cataloguing each of the Prince’s injuries seemed hours. The sight of his lover as he lay upon his bed – vulnerable, nude, beyond repair, and thus dying – would forever be seared into the Ranger’s memory like a brand had burned it into his mind. None of these physical injuries hinted at the intangible wounds made to the laegel’s faer or the cuts to his grieving soul and gouges to his confused, drugged, and enthralled mind.

Rending his eyes from the Wood-Elf, Aragorn turned his attention to those around him. For so long had it seemed that they all stood there in contemplation of the Prince’s injuries that he suddenly worried that no one moved to aid Legolas. But it had only been a few minutes at most and even as the Ranger opened his mouth to ask what his father wanted done first to help the Prince, the Peredhel began speaking.

Elrond turned away from Legolas, as well, which is why Estel noted that his father was unabashedly weeping. He ordered Elrohir quietly but firmly, “Go fetch wood for a fire. We will need hot water.” The water they had already, at least, because the buckets of river water Faidnil had brought for his Prince were still sitting in the room. To Elladan he said, “I need my gut and needle.” Then to Kalin he asked, “Go to Estel’s room and gather all the towels and sheets. Pull them from the bed if need be. Then go down the hall and do the same for Elrohir and Elladan’s rooms. Bring as much linen as you can find.”

None of the three who had been given tasks wanted to leave the Prince and all three were weeping the same as Elrond. However, to aid Legolas, they went about doing what was appointed to them, moving with alacrity so that they could return to the laegel as quickly as possible. Slowly, his Ada pulled the blanket back up the Prince’s body for now. As warm as it was, he did not do this to keep the laegel from getting cold, but rather to break the King’s macabre view of his violated son.

Since Mithfindl had been the cause of Legolas’ suffering, they had given little thought to the livestock healer, but now Estel thought of her and he told his Ada, “We should seek Faelthîr, as well. She might know where Mithfindl is, where he might go. Besides,” he said, watching as Thranduil reseated himself next to the laegel’s upper torso, “I trust her no more than him. She might seek to remove the evidence of her participation by removing Legolas – or Mithfindl for that matter.”

Erestor did not wait for confirmation from Elrond before he was leaving the room, saying over his shoulder, “I will see it done.”

Estel grabbed one of the seldom-used chairs that sat alongside the wall opposite the hearth and couch. He sat it close to Thranduil. When the King only looked at him, the Ranger nodded towards the chair. He received a reluctant nod of thanks when the Elf-King took the seat.

“He will die,” Thranduil simply stated to Elrond and the human, sounding neither upset nor gladdened at this realization, but completely numb to it. “No one could live through these injuries.”

He wanted to argue with the King, to tell Thranduil to shut his mouth, to keep his opinions to himself, because he did not dare to consider this possibility. Yet, Estel kept his silence and it was Elrond who spoke to Thranduil, agreeing with the King, “I am sorry. We will do all that we can for him, I promise you, and make him as comfortable as possible. I will be surprised if he ever awakens. But yes, Thranduil,” his father told the King as he wiped clean the tears from his face, “our Greenleaf will likely die.”

The Ranger’s normally strong limbs turned to storm bent saplings at hearing his father’s despair of Legolas’ condition. Unable to remain standing, the Adan meandered dazedly to the side of the bed opposite Thranduil. Here he knelt on the floor, his torso leant on the side of the mattress, and his hand upon the Elf’s chest to keep silent watch, expecting that any of Legolas’ belabored breaths might be his last.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They could not have known it, for with his eyes closed and his body utterly immobile Legolas looked on the brink of death, but the Prince was very much alive. In fact, being alive was beyond his control at the moment. With the periapt still in place, Legolas was bound to the instructions he’d been given by Mithfindl. Although the Noldorin warrior had given him several commands, the others of which he would see through when the time came, for now he followed the first order that Mithfindl had given him – he was not to die. Unfortunately for Legolas, who coveted the imminence of death with what was left of his being, he could only persevere.

He was, in fact, still awake, as well. He might have been lit on fire, so great was the pain that raced along his nerves. His mind putresced inside his inert body. The scar, which festered its recriminations in wordless abhorrence, went unchecked as he could not so much as lift his hand to end its hate with furtherance of his suffering. It wasn’t until Estel came to the bedside and placed his hand upon the laegel’s chest that Legolas had any relief from his grief’s opinions.

Time held no meaning for him. He had no concept of when or how long.

Unable to open his eyes, he did not know who it was that lifted his nude body from the bed and carried him into the bathing room – at least, he did not until he heard his father ask Elrond a question and felt his King’s booming voice resonating in the chest against which he was cradled, held aloft in the air while a blanket from the Ranger’s bed was spread inside the tub of his bathing room. He might have smiled had he some control over even this much of his rhaw right now, for he could feel the muck upon him and wanted the soothing comfort of the wash they intended to give him. Upon the blanket they placed him, his father sitting behind him to hold his head and shoulders from the bottom of the small tub.

In the end, Elrond and Thranduil did not give him a proper bath but merely poured onto the Wood-Elf Prince clean river water they had warmed over the fireplace so that it might rinse away the dirt that was caked upon his head and sluice away the blood that covered him. They used no soap but the King chafed the young Wood-Elf’s skin with his hands to remove any lingering gore. This took only a few moments. They soon had him lying upon a pile of linens from the human and twins’ beds that they made upon the bathing room floor, and with towels they had similarly obtained from the Ranger and twins’ rooms, Elrond and Thranduil worked to dry off the secretly conscious laegel.

The stab of Elrond’s needle and gut came next; the intermittent pain of each stitch upon his scalp was a distant agony compared to the totality of torturous awareness that his broken body caused him. During this time, hands spread unguent over his many bruises before wrapping his bleeding wounds in bandaging. Someone then dressed him in a clean nightshirt that swallowed him in its soft folds and smelled distinctly of his Ada. The bed had been remade yet again, someone having cleared the bloodied sheets and pillows, although this task had quite literally been completed only hours ago by Faidnil. He could smell the fresh scent and feel the crispness of the sundried linens.

Soon, the Wood-Elf was washed, bandaged, medicated, and as comfortable as they could possibly make him. He heard every word that they said during all this. He heard when his father stated that the Prince would die, and then heard his Minyatar agree. He heard one of the twins sobbing with great sniffling inhales of air and the other twin comforting his brother. Other familiar voices he heard during their ministrations to his failing rhaw, their coming and going, rising and falling, quieting in sorrow and then rising in anger all a strange berceuse to him, lulling him towards a sleep that stayed just beyond his grasp, flitting away though he greedily tried to grasp it. If he could not die, he hoped at least to slumber and evade the agony of his body. But Mithfindl had commanded him to take no rest for now – even the Noldorin warrior had known that in slumber the laegel would be unable to resist the lull of death, despite being instructed to live.

One thing of which the Prince was certain was that Estel was near through all of this. He could feel the Ranger’s presence with absolute conviction. He felt his lover’s touch only rarely, as Elrond, his father, and the twins did most of the tending to his broken body, but each time Aragorn’s hand lit upon his arm, his chest, or his face, the laegel knew it.

 _It was not Estel. It could not have been Estel,_ he told himself, forcing his mind not to retreat as he recalled the details of his torment. Too many strange discrepancies stuck out, things that he had not noticed before, both when he had been attacked in the storage room and especially under the bushes. The feel of the man's skin had been different, the palms not deeply calloused and abrasive, but soft in the wrong places. When Estel had laid his front against the Wood-Elf's back, the usual feel of the soft pelt of the human's chest hair had been missing. As strange as it seemed to him to think it, even the man's shaft had seemed different. He had not once seen Estel under the bushes but only Mithfindl, and in the storage room, he had seen neither. _What if it was not Estel?_ he asked himself. _What if it was Mithfindl?_ Unable to take rest and unable to die, Legolas could think only of these things.


	45. Chapter 45

There was nothing more they could do for Legolas.

The bath, bandaging, and sweet smelling unguent they had used on the Prince had bettered the appearance of the ailing Elf. Without the gore staining his face and head or the leaves and dirt caked upon his body, the Wood-Elf already looked more salubrious. Of course, now clothed again and covered in a light blanket, the Prince’s worst wounds were hidden from sight. Only the slowly fading contusions and chafing made to Legolas’ face hinted at the depths of torment the laegel had undergone.

They sat or stood around him. Thranduil was once more in the chair that Estel had brought to the bedside for him. Elrond and the twins were at the foot of the bed, the twins sitting on the trunk there, though they were twisted at the waist and pressed against the footboard so that they could face the laegel; with one of his hands affectionately upon the upper back of each of his twin sons, the Peredhel comforted Elladan and Elrohir from where he stood behind them. His Elven brothers had quit their weeping, as had Elrond, but all looked as though it could restart at a moment’s notice.

Across the hall, in the Ranger’s room, Galendil lay in the human’s bed, his head having been stitched and his health now assured after a thorough examination by Elrond. Although they had tried to convince the sentry to remain with the healers where he could be looked after, Galendil had insisted on staying close to his kith and especially his Prince; and so, Estel had offered his own bed to the sentry so that he could both be near his people and near Elrond and the twins for their care. On occasion, the sentry would rise and walk to the doorway of the human’s room, where he would peer across the hall into the laegel’s chambers, as the door was kept open there, as well. At seeing his Prince still living, the Wood-Elf would return to Estel’s bed, where he laid in fitful rest until next the need struck him to check Legolas’ welfare.

They now knew that right before being attacked Galendil had not heard Mithfindl’s approach nor seen the Noldorin Elf at all. He knew only that he had bent down to get Legolas’ cane and then awoke sometime later, bleeding and shaky and his Prince not where last he had seen him, although it had not taken him long to follow the trail of blood to the bushes under which Legolas had been taken. They could all see the culpability upon Galendil’s face, although no one had cast any blame onto the sentry and no one would do so. Kalin had warned them that Galendil would be wary only of Estel, as he was the one who the Prince had blamed, and thus, when Mithfindl had snuck upon the two Wood-Elves, Galendil had never recognized the danger. He had not thought an Elf to be involved in his Prince’s suffering and had only been wary of Estel’s approach – an approach that he would have heard, unlike Mithfindl’s stalking them. It would likely take his Prince’s forgiveness for the guilt to leave Galendil’s face. That is, if the Prince ever woke to give it.

 _None of us wishes to be absent when Greenleaf passes._ Estel looked around him at each of those in the room, all of whom had their eyes upon Legolas. _We keep a death vigil._

They had no reason to think that Mithfindl would try to enter, to finish his job of killing the Prince while so many attended Legolas, but too late had Thranduil realized his folly of not believing his son when he had warned his father that they were in danger. As it had turned out, Legolas had paid the price for his father’s disbelief because it had not been the King that Mithfindl sought for his schemes today, but the Prince. Thranduil’s dismissal of the sentries was now rescinded. Two of the King’s sentries stood at either end of the hall, Kalin stood at the open doorway to the laegel’s room with his attention divided between the corridor and the Prince on the bed, and stationed on the terrace of Elrond’s study on the floor above them, Ninan and Oiolaire sat in watch over the Prince’s balcony with bows at ready. It was too little too late, but the King would not be fooled again. Moreover, the Silvan sentries felt better in keeping watch over their King and Prince, even if it now served little purpose. Ninan especially had felt the humiliation of failing in his duty of ensuring his lieges’ safety. But again, no one had blamed the Silvan sentries, Ninan included, as the situation over the past few days had been so confusing and tumultuous for all involved that everyone had been unsure as to who was friend and who was foe.

From where he stood near the dwindling fire in the hearth, Aragorn saw as Kalin tensed before he left the doorway to begin down the hall. _Someone approaches,_ Estel decided and moved from the fireplace to see whom it was. _Perhaps Glorfindel sends news._

By the time he reached the doorway with hopes of an update from the commander, Kalin was in the middle of informing the sentries guarding the corridor’s entrance that Erestor could move freely in and out of the hall without being stopped. He watched as Kalin walked amiably with the councilor towards the laegel’s chambers, neither of them speaking. Indeed, few words had been said over the last hour or so since the Prince had been cared for to the best of their abilities. Occasionally, the King would whisper into Legolas’ ear, although it was always too soft for the Ranger to hear what was said. He could only hope that Thranduil was soothing his son – if he heard otherwise, he might murder the King. The King had often wished that his son would die and if he now took his chance to plead with Legolas to do so, Estel would be glad to hurry Thranduil in joining his son in the Halls of Waiting.

Stepping back to allow the advisor within and to let Kalin retake his place in the doorway, the Ranger ambled back to the fireplace, but not before he noticed, _Erestor carries the stones with him._ Under the councilor’s arm was tucked the box in which the periapts were kept in the stables’ locked cabinet. Immediately, the Ranger worried, _He cannot mean for us to remove the stone upon Greenleaf. It was dangerous to try it before, when Legolas was less injured. Now it will surely kill him._

Although he longed to sit beside his lover, he stayed at the hearth where he could watch all that occurred in the room. The human was at the point of collapse. He had taken only a few hours of sleep over the past days, he had not eaten much since a meal of cold chicken the night after the feast, and his emotions were running rampant, exhausting him with their overwhelming instability. He found it hard to sit, much less to stand still, and he longed to go outside and smoke his pipe for the tranquility it would bring him. But now, given that he thought Erestor might petition for them to remove the periapt from Legolas, the human wanted to be in the thick of the argument. He pushed to the side all thoughts of walking outside to smoke, of his hunger and tiredness, and tried to focus his roving mind.

Without turning away from Legolas or being told who was there, Elrond asked, “What news do you bring, Erestor? Is there any word from Glorfindel?”

Although Elrond could not see it, the advisor shook his head at the question. “Word, but no good word. Glorfindel has all the border patrol and guards who are not currently on duty now searching for Mithfindl. The household has all been told that we search for him, as well, and that he is dangerous, though no one has been told explicit details out of respect for the Prince.” Upon his mention of the laegel, Erestor walked farther into the room to look upon the Elf of whom he spoke. “Glorfindel has sent orders to the patrols around the outlying lands and our border to watch for Mithfindl and detain him without violence, if possible, but has also warned that if he does not surrender willingly, then they are not to hesitate to use whatever means necessary to bring him back.”

It went unsaid what the commander had meant – Glorfindel wanted Mithfindl’s return to the valley, whether dead or alive. _Let them find him alive,_ the Adan wished, thinking, _so that I can slowly tear the flesh from his body, keeping him aware long enough to watch while I feed him piece by piece to the crows._ Aragorn would gladly do to Mithfindl what he had done to Kane in Thranduil’s halls – and worse, if only given the chance.

“However, Faelthîr has been found, and quite easily at that. I would assume that Mithfindl fled without telling her,” Erestor continued. When Legolas wheezed and then moaned in his painful attempts at aspiration, the staid advisor’s face crumpled into a sorrowful grimace, and then, having seen his fill of the dying laegel, the advisor stepped back from the bed and to the open balcony doors. Despite the vague fear of Mithfindl’s continued retribution, they left the doors open in hopes that Legolas’ Silvan faer would be nourished by the fresh air and gentle sounds of nature from the woods and gardens. It was to these gardens that Erestor looked when he went on, telling them, “I have let no one speak to her nor questioned her myself, but upon her being taken from the stables to her chambers, where she now stays under guard, Faelthîr broke down into tears. She shows her guilt.”

“Let her stew for a while.” Elrond stood with his back straight, his tears still drying on his ageless face, and it was with solemn anger that he now watched over Legolas. The Peredhel held no hope that their Greenleaf would live, much to Estel’s frustration, and so waited with the others for Legolas’ death rather than trying to find ways to aid him in surviving. Elrond would have gone to question the livestock healer himself had he not wanted to remain in the Prince’s room until the laegel died. Not normally one to let anyone suffer, Elrond ordered Erestor with dispassionate resolve, “I want her to remain alone – to fret and wonder what will happen to her. I will come speak to her later today, perhaps, but for now, visit her only to ask if she knows where Mithfindl might be found or where he might have gone. I doubt she knows since she remained in the valley, but perhaps she will think of something in optimism of saving her own hide.”

Quiet thus far, Elladan stood from the trunk he’d been sitting on and turned to his father and Erestor to ask them, "Why does he run? Surely, he must know that he will not make it far from the valley before he is caught."

"It was as if he knew we were coming," Elrohir commented as he stood, mimicking his twin so that they both faced their Ada and his councilor, their faces even similarly blotched from their sorrowful weeping. The Noldo turned in a full circle, his eyes not fixed upon the Prince’s room but distant points beyond the stone walls, as if he were assessing where he thought the aberrant warrior would have gone. "We will tromp the forests flat if we must to find him," the younger twin promised to no one in particular, though he met Estel's eye while speaking. “If it takes the rest of our days,” he said on his and his twin’s behalf, Elladan nodding all the while in concurrence, while looking now to Thranduil as he gave his oath, “we will see Greenleaf avenged.”

 _They would rather be in the woods searching for Mithfindl,_ the human pondered at seeing his brothers’ impatient agitation. _They are no better at sitting around waiting than I am._ It seemed that even the twins had no hope for Legolas’ recovery, for they were mourning their friend as if he had already passed into Námo’s care and making claims for revenge as if the laegel would not live to see it done for himself.

"He could not have but an hour’s head start. Maybe less. Although, Mithfindl is a highly skilled rider," the elder twin admitted begrudgingly, crossing his arms over his broad chest in show of his unwillingness to give the heinous Elf any compliment, no matter how small. “At least if he took a horse we will have easy tracks to follow.”

They had left the details of finding Mithfindl to Glorfindel, who was most proficient at tasks such as the one put before him now. The commander would have had the stables searched for missing horses, Mithfindl’s rooms to see if he had taken his weapons and provisions with him, and he would have sent his warriors to Thialid’s house to ascertain that Mithfindl had not fled there. However, they had not yet learnt of any of the findings from these or similar searches for they had not seen the commander, although Erestor had seen him and had informed Glorfindel of the laegel’s newest woe and Elrond’s prognosis for the Prince. Being that all now thought that Legolas would soon die, Aragorn knew that Glorfindel would not rest until Mithfindl was found, for he knew that Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, Estel, Thranduil, and the other Silvan would never peacefully accept the Prince’s death until Mithfindl were brought to justice for causing it.

The Ranger thought of the expanse of forest and the foothills to the east of the House, which led upwards into the Misty Mountains proper, and saw little hope of finding Mithfindl in that vast wilderness unless they could pinpoint his exit from the valley. Estel considered that Mithfindl would not have gone directly north of Imladris unless he dared to chance the perilous Ettenmoors. While he could have gone south, he would be easier to track on the relatively flat land in that direction and would be travelling through lands occupied with gentle folk that might see him. And going west would mean that Mithfindl would have to travel a longer distance within the outlying farms and houses of the Elves of Imladris, which would increase his chances of being seen and thereby being caught.

He told his brothers, "Unless we find out soon and for certain which direction he headed, we will not catch up to him, although I would stake my life that he went east. An hour is all it takes to pass beyond the last of the Imladrian guard to the east of here. He will have already made it into the forest by now, and be in the foothills, where it would be easy to hide his tracks in the rocky terrain.”

“But surely he will pass the warriors who patrol that far out," the younger twin conjectured. Elrohir sat back down on the trunk and his twin followed only a second later, both of them turning once more to Legolas. Elrond replaced his hands upon his sons’ shoulders. “Even if word had not yet reached them to order his detainment, they will have seen his departure and thus be able to tell us which way he has gone.”

The King suddenly spoke up, saying, "But he is one of them.” Showing his acumen to be slightly more honed than that of his youngers – especially in matters like this – Thranduil spoke quietly under the weight of the sorrow that he carried, his gaze constantly upon Legolas. Elrond and Erestor were already nodding their agreement with the King’s supposition, for they knew what Thranduil would say and had ciphered it, as well.

“He will know where they stay, where they patrol. He also knows the forests surrounding the valley, the best routes, all of its nooks and crannies. This is his home, just as it is yours, and he will not be easily found," the King predicted, drawing in a short, quick breath of anxious worry. "He will either hide or flee. It depends on his intentions. He cannot hide from all of Elvendom forever, and his name and visage will not be forgotten. If he intends to finish his revenge, then he will hide until he can find opportunity to see it completed.”

They fell silent as they all thought over the King’s reasoning. _Mithfindl’s intentions,_ the Ranger contemplated of what the King had said. _He has done all the damage that he could possibly do, short of outright killing Legolas, although he has likely ensured that outcome anyway, according to Ada. Unless he means to kill me, also, then there would be no purpose to his doing anything but fleeing as far from Imladris as he could possibly get._ Mithfindl would not even be able to abscond to Valinor; eventually, an Elf would sail who knew of Mithfindl’s trespasses and the warrior would be held accountable for them then. The Noldo’s only hope would be to travel beyond the reaches of Elrond’s influence: he could not seek asylum in Lothlórien, since the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn would hand him over to Elrond at once, and of course, he would seek no shelter in Eryn Galen lest he had suicidal intentions. There were other, minor Elven settlements in Middle Earth, but none of them were beyond the reach or influence of Lord Elrond, the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, and King Thranduil.

Mithfindl could try to pass off as a human and find a life amongst them, but as much as Mithfindl abhorred the Secondborn, it did not seem likely to Estel that he would do this. _His only chance is to go to the far north or south or distant east, where he might never be found._ But the Ranger did not feel that this would be Mithfindl’s course of action, either, though he had no indication otherwise. _Mithfindl would rather die trying to win than flee in defeat. Thranduil is right – his whereabouts hinge on his intentions, and if I know Mithfindl at all, he will stay close by Imladris long enough to ensure that Legolas is dead or to find some means to kill me._

For a while longer, the room stayed hushed. Outside, the life of the Elves in Rivendell went on as normal. The Bruinen crashed loudly against the rocks of the falls, the servants were calling to each other, singing, and making the everyday noises of cooking, cleaning, and gardening, and birds twittered, bees buzzed, and the wind danced through the leaves on the trees such that they happily twirled and rustled with each gentle gust. It irked Aragorn to hear these things, to smell the green and tart summer scents of grass and flowers, to feel the cool air coming off the river, to have his stomach grumbling with hunger – all these tokens of life only served to remind the Ranger that soon his lover would be dead. Legolas would never again hold his bow, climb a tree, or sing a song. Estel would soon be watching a pyre burning with his lover’s body upon it, never again to touch the Elf’s smooth skin, stroke his fingers through his flaxen hair, nor lie beside him to feel the warmth from the laegel’s flesh.

_Legolas is meant to live forever. He cannot die now._

Thranduil interrupted the silence and the Ranger’s morose thoughts when he finally looked away from his son to ask Elrond, “Will you send word to Lothlórien, to Thialid?”

At the reminder that Mithfindl was no monster, but an Elf with a family and a life that had once extended beyond his crazed arrogation of the Prince and retaliation against Estel, the Ranger shifted uncomfortably where he stood. _I had thought nothing of Mithfindl’s father._ The mention of Thialid also served to admonish the Ranger of his own part in Mithfindl’s madness, for it had been his pummeling of the Noldo that had incited within Mithfindl the desire for revenge. Still, the Ranger could not fault himself for the Noldo’s actions. Mithfindl had lost all reason, it seemed, and a broken nose on the training fields was a poor excuse for ravishing, beating, and nearly killing Legolas, and also poisoning the King of the Greenwood.

“No, and I will send no word until we have Mithfindl in hand. I do not wish to send Thialid word of his son’s deeds without also being able to tell him if he still lives.” The Peredhel heaved a great sigh and said to Thranduil, “Thialid is not to blame for this.”

“Of course not,” the King replied, his gaze returning to Legolas. “His son brings shame upon him, but the shame is not his.”

Taking up the chair identical to Thranduil’s chair that sat vacant against the wall, Estel placed it beside the bed on the side opposite to the King’s chair so that he could be close to the laegel again. Just the recollection of how Thranduil felt his son to have disgraced him made the human want to be nearby for the Prince, even if Legolas were unaware of their conversation. He took the laegel’s arm in his hand to offer what comfort he could. _He says that the shame is not Thialid’s, but he doesn’t feel the same when it comes to Legolas._

The King’s words summed up the way that Thranduil felt for his own son. No matter what Legolas had done over the course of his life, his actions had never been deemed worthy by his sire. The laegel had fought against the darkness in the forest and in aid of their allies, he had slain Orcs and spider and other fell creatures that had no name, he had led his fellow Silvan adeptly, had followed his father’s commands whether he believed them right or just – none of this mattered to the Elvenking. Never had Thranduil been pleased with his son. And recently, after Legolas’ horrid experiences at the hands of the human merchants and now Mithfindl, Thranduil had shown little compassion for his son but plenty of mortification, even when, by Estel’s reckoning, Legolas had nothing over which to be ashamed.

As if he thought along the same line as Estel, without prelude Thranduil queried in disturbed confusion, “What is wrong with my son? He let the Ranger have him, or someone he thought to be the Ranger, allowing himself to be beat and despoilt without killing his attacker. He did much the same in the Greenwood to keep the wine merchant pacified, and then in the forest to keep the Ranger safe when the other two merchants attacked them.” Thranduil turned to Elrond once more, his wrath enflaming as the incendiary topic over which he spoke ignited the latent ember of hatred he kept coaled for his son, an odium that he had managed to dampen so far this day. “You said that he almost submitted to this Mithfindl because of his grief. What madness has taken hold of his mind, what weakness of will would cause him to do these things? My son used to be pure and obedient, his body unpolluted, but this human has ruined him,” the King ended, turning his scowl to Estel.

The Ranger watched as his father’s shoulders straightened and his eyes cleared of all vestiges of sorrow to be replaced only with ire. Elrond moved away from the twins and towards Thranduil. Lord Elrond was not usually one easy to anger, but the King’s vindictive reprimands cut to the quick of the matter. “It is not perversion, nor weakness. It is not madness, Thranduil,” the Peredhel said, his voice growing forceful until he nearly shouted, “it is his love for his friends and for you that gave him cause to submit when others would have died fighting off their attacker, and it is your poor opinion and treatment of him that causes Greenleaf to believe his life and body are worth nothing, and so he takes no care with either!”

Few dared to argue with Elrond, especially when the Imladrian was incensed, but Thranduil was a King, not of Elrond’s household, and so Estel expected the Elf-King to begin a shouting match. Yet, the whole of Thranduil’s stately body crumpled and deflated, his shoulders hunched, and his head fell forward until his hair hid most of his face. He turned away from them and shifted in his seat to be closer to where his son lay on the bed.

Elrond had said what no one had ever dared to tell the King, words that Thranduil desperately needed to hear, but the Peredhel realized that now was not the time to say it, not with Legolas lying on the bed dying and an audience surrounding them. “Leave us for a while,” he told everyone in the room but pointedly told the twins, “Go check on Galendil. If Legolas’ condition changes, I will let you all know immediately.”

Elladan and Elrohir respectfully if sluggishly left the room, while at the door, Kalin waited for everyone to follow suit so that he could shut the portal to leave the King and Peredhel alone with the Prince. Before he walked out, Erestor wordlessly handed Elrond the box containing the stones, having never said why he had brought them, but since his father did not appear surprised to be handed the vile objects, the Ranger could only assume that it was by Elrond’s order that Erestor had taken them from the stables. _Perhaps he wanted to make sure that no one else could access them._

Estel did not want to let go of Legolas. If he left, the laegel would die. He had no call to believe that but believe it he did. Should he not be there for the laegel’s death, the Ranger would never forgive himself. In fact, even though his father clearly wanted him gone, the Ranger scooted forward in the chair to be closer to the Prince and wrapped his other hand around the Elf’s arm, as well, appearing as if Elrond would need to pull him from the laegel to make him leave. _If Greenleaf is dying, I will be here for it,_ he pledged to himself, adamantly prepared to tell his father that he and Thranduil could take their conversation outside on the balcony or to the bathing room if they wanted privacy.

When his foster father came to him and placed a hand on the Ranger’s shoulder to draw him away from Legolas, he argued, “Please, Ada. I will not leave him. Please do not make me leave him.”

“Let him alone,” the King tiredly interjected with a discredited sigh. “Whatever you wish to say to me, go on and say it in front of the human. Neither of us is willing to leave Legolas’ side and my son draws comfort from him, no doubt.”

His father removed his hand. Elrond glided away, back to the foot of the bed, where he could see the King, Estel, and Legolas all at the same time. Upon hearing that the human was not exiting, Kalin shut the door so that Elrond could speak to his King, giving Estel a momentary but encouraging smile as he did so. The sentry would likely hear every word that was said, anyway, as Aragorn imagined that Kalin would not willingly leave the door. In fact, the Ranger felt certain that the only way that the sentry would leave his Prince’s vicinity anytime soon would be when Legolas died. _Even then, Kalin may end up on the funeral pyre with Greenleaf,_ the Ranger thought in disconsolation, knowing that if he were an Elf, he would end up on the pyre, as well. As it was, the human wanted to see Mithfindl exterminated and while he would happily die in seeing that accomplished, he did not plan to perish before then.

“Thranduil,” the Peredhel began, looking down to the box he held, holding it delicately with just his fingertips as if the thing were covered in something vile, “I have told you that Legolas’ will was subverted by these stones.” Elrond placed the container upon the end of the bed, near to the laegel’s blanketed feet. Even though Legolas was under the cover and the box was not close to the Wood-Elf, it still sat too close for the Ranger’s liking and he fought the desire to stand and fling them away from his lover. The imprecated stones were the cause of his lover’s suffering, after all. Lifting the lid to expose the contents, Elrond told the King, “Since the moment that the periapt was placed upon him, Legolas’ actions were not his own. You cannot hold him accountable for anything he has done while ensorcelled by it.”

Thranduil looked at the stones and the two empty spaces within the box. He watched as Elrond fished from his pocket the towel-wrapped periapt that he had removed from Thranduil earlier. “That explains only his submitting to the Ranger, or who he thought to be the Ranger, I suppose, since the same spell that made him believe it to be the human made him welcome his defilement. However, it does not explain why he allowed himself to be debased by the merchants, or why he almost allowed this Mithfindl to do the same. It also says nothing of this depraved, repulsive affair he has with the Ranger. How he can reduce himself to be with another human – a _male human_ at that – so soon after he let himself be tainted by them… it is disgusting. My son’s mind is faulty, his body is broken and fouled, and his sorrowed faer cleaves from his soiled, debauched rhaw even as we speak! Rightfully so, perhaps!” Thranduil mordantly called out, although at realizing what he had said, the King sat back, his eyes wide in astonishment at his own malevolence, for he had rambled in his words until he disclosed to Elrond more than what he had intended.

Elrond was having a much better time in remaining calm and patient than his human foster son was having, but the Peredhel was about to lose his temper. The human could see this in how his Ada’s brows drew upwards at sharp angles, how his mouth pursed into a scowl that promised a lecture, and most importantly, how Elrond’s incisive gaze narrowed upon the King.

 _Thranduil says my Greenleaf welcomed his defilement? That he allowed himself to be debased?_ For his part, Estel sat quietly, his grasp hard upon the Prince’s hand – in fact, so tight was his hold of Legolas’ injured fingers that the Ranger had to force his grip to loosen lest he hurt the Prince further. _Does Thranduil truly believe that Legolas is forever tainted? Or is it just his own reputation that is fouled, thereby causing him this perceived humiliation?_ The Ranger was close to losing his composure but kept it in check in hopes that his father would speak to Thranduil about his treatment of Legolas, even though Elrond had no true right to do so except in that he loved the Prince as one of his sons.

But hearing as Thranduil spoke his vindictive and ludicrous beliefs and seeing that Elrond would argue against those opinions, the Ranger suddenly wished they would take their argument outside, away from Legolas. If his Greenleaf were to die, he did not want the last that the laegel heard to be his Minyatar and Ada fighting – especially as the King was yet again calling his son a perverse lunatic and intimating that he was a repugnant whore. The Adan would not sit by idly and listen to it, much less allow it in his lover’s presence. If his Ada did not rein in the King’s execration, Estel would do it with less diplomacy than Elrond.

“The first time, in Lake-town, Legolas had no reason to fear such actions against him until it was too late,” the Peredhel reasoned with a calm that Aragorn could never have feigned, as did Elrond now, for clearly his Ada was beyond incensed to hear Legolas spoken of in such a way. Elrond placed the periapt he held inside the box, never touching it directly but using the towel to do so, which left only one empty space now – the stone upon the Prince would make the set of enchanted periapts complete. “His being attacked in Lake-town was through no fault of his, and when Estel and Legolas were accosted in the forest, it was only cruel fate that had the same merchants find them there. He acted as he thought might save Estel’s life that day. You cannot fault him for trying to save the life of a friend. Estel would have done the same for Legolas.”

“He should have let the human die.” Thranduil did not care that the human in question sat across the bed from him or that he spoke so callously of Elrond’s foster son. “Legolas is a Prince, an Elf. The human’s life is not worth the same as my son’s life.”

“Legolas loves Estel,” his father told the King, his irritation renewing at Thranduil’s diminution of the Ranger by his continuing refusal to acknowledge Estel by name. Replacing the lid on the box of stones, Elrond took them to the mantel where he sat them, before he turned back to Thranduil. “That day outside Lake-town, if he had let Estel die to save his own life, Legolas would have regretted it the rest of his days. But Greenleaf would never have done that. Had someone held a knife to your throat and demanded Legolas’ cooperation… his body… in exchange for your life, your son would have handed himself over to his tormentor without hesitation. He loves his friends and family more than he loves himself. That is not ignoble.”

The King responded, “I doubt this greatly. He cares more for the human than he does his father.” Thranduil snorted in disbelief and scooted his chair back from the bed. Estel noted that the more incensed that the King grew, the farther he moved back from Legolas, which was fine with the human. If Thranduil became enraged enough that he wished to strike something, he would lose his hand if he struck the dying Wood-Elf Prince, for Aragorn had nothing to fear from the King now that the Prince was on the cusp of releasing his faer to Námo.

“But that is exactly what Legolas did,” the Ranger interrupted. He had intended to stay quiet, to let the elders speak. He likely ought not to be telling the King this, as it only provided Thranduil with more evidence of the laegel’s seeming frailty, but he found himself arguing before he thought better of it, saying, “Just before dawn of this morning, after Kalin left him alone per your instruction, Legolas came to my room. While making Legolas think that he was me, Mithfindl must have told Greenleaf that he had one day to make you and your people leave the valley,” the Ranger explained, unsure if the King knew of this. “So thinking that I was his tormentor, he came to me to beg for more time to convince you to leave, believing that I would somehow attack you if he did not succeed in compelling your departure.” At realizing that he would be telling the laegel’s father how his son had tried to seduce him by offering his body up for torture and abuse, Aragorn swallowed thickly, the words sticking in his gullet. As much as he hated Thranduil, he would not use the Prince’s grief as a weapon against the King. He forced himself to finish, doing so vaguely but his meaning clear, “He was willing to endure and do whatever I asked of him, just to see that you were safe.”

The Elf-King had not heard this particular fact, but he had been told by Legolas about his agreement to stay in the valley so that his father and people could leave without further harm. At hearing Estel’s argument and being reminded of his son’s admission that he would remain in the valley for the Ranger’s pleasure, the King’s head dropped so that he faced the floor between his knees. Unbeknownst to Elrond and Estel, Thranduil had earlier felt pride at hearing how his son had been willing to accept a cruel lot just to keep his King safe. Now, his pride was tainted with shame, for he realized that it was because he had beaten and belittled Legolas into the belief that his life was worthless and his body merely a tool for his King that the Prince had so willingly pledged both to certain destruction, even if it was love for his father that had prompted him to do so.

“You know of the scar,” Elrond stated, giving Thranduil no time to begin his criticisms again, “so you know that Legolas suffered greatly at the merchants’ hands. You know that his grief has clouded his good judgment. You know what it is like to grieve, to lose all reason when overcome with sorrow,” the Peredhel intimated without offering detail, although the Ranger and Thranduil both knew that Elrond spoke of the loss of Legolas’ Naneth and how Thranduil had been affected by the death of his Queen. “The scar is much like the stone upon Greenleaf. Both undermine Legolas’ volition – the stone in causing him to follow Mithfindl’s directives, and the scar in causing him to act in accordance to its hatred and opinions, the source of which is you.”

“Enough,” Thranduil said, holding his hand up to stave off whatever Elrond might next say. “I have heard this before from Kalin and Legolas both. I came to Imladris to reconcile with Legolas, to earn his love and trust again, not to castigate him for his past indiscretions, even though I struggle to understand why he has let them occur.”

Aragorn could hardly believe his ears. _Indiscretions?_ Still the King spoke as if Legolas had acted wickedly, as if the laegel had lusted for the excruciation forced upon him. Unable to contain himself, the Ranger once more inserted his opinion, “You have his love and trust already. It is withholding _your_ love and trust that keeps the two of you at odds, for Greenleaf feels that he has neither.”

For several long and discomforting moments, the King glowered at the Ranger, but eventually, when his gaze returned to the Prince, Thranduil’s ire and aggravation dissolved with a shake of his head. The Elvenking took his son’s forearm in hand once more. “It is too late for reconciliation now. At least he will die without the influence of the scar,” the King alleged.

Estel had not the heart to tell Thranduil that Legolas had admitted that the scar’s fell voice had returned and nor did Elrond tell the King this – Thranduil did not need to know because it would only bring him further distress.

“If my son is to die, I would rather he die without his mind enslaved by this foul stone,” the King continued as if thinking aloud, for he spoke softly to himself. Suddenly, though, the King was reaching out across the bed, his hand seeking the periapt, as he nearly roared in his fervor to see his will done, “Let him be rid of it!”

“No, do not remove it,” the Ranger entreated, the hand not holding Legolas’ hand flying out to seize the King’s wrist before it had gotten close to the back of the laegel’s head. “He is too weak.”

“Take your hand off me, human,” the King warned quietly. In deference to Elrond, Thranduil did not react with the violence that glittered like winter frost in his hoary blue eyes. “Hours ago you argued for its removal and now you argue for it to stay. He is my son and I will decide for him.”

“Do you not think that I would rather it be gone?” he asked the King, his hand still holding Thranduil’s wrist in his tight grip. If the King had wanted to pull away, he could easily have done so, but Thranduil wanted the human to obey him. He wanted Estel to cave, to release him and thus acquiesce to his desires. Thranduil was right – it was ultimately his choice, as Legolas was his son and subject, but Aragorn would have his say first. Physical force would not work on Thranduil, as the King was stronger than he was, so the Ranger needed to convince the Elf-King. “Do you not think I would rather Greenleaf be free of the belief that I have perpetrated these horrific acts against him? Yet, if we remove it now, when his faer and rhaw are weakened almost to the point of death, then we only ensure his demise. Trust me. When Legolas recovers from this enough that he can bear it, then we will remove the stone.”

“If he recovers,” the King amended, although he tugged his wrist free from the Ranger’s hold and sat back down.

Without the Ranger’s notice, Elrond had come to stand behind him. He had meant to end Estel’s hold on the King, but being that the human had already released Thranduil, the Peredhel instead let his hands linger on the Adan’s shoulders. To Aragorn’s surprise, his father sided with Thranduil on this topic, telling them, “He will not recover, I fear. Thranduil may be right,” Elrond lamented, squeezing the tense muscles of Estel’s neck and shoulders with affection, “it may be better for Legolas to die whilst not under the sway of the periapt. Death will be a relief for our Greenleaf. Let us not let him suffer needlessly.”

 _No,_ the human told himself. As his thoughts grew evermore dark and tears threatened to begin again as his despair mounted, the Ranger shook his shoulders roughly, as if to shake off the feeling of sorrow that sapped his hope for the Wood-Elf, but also to shake off the unexpectedly unwelcome comfort his father gave him. He stood from the chair and moved away from the two elders who had forsaken the Wood-Elf, who had given up on Greenleaf, who thought his death would be better than watching him suffer under the thrall of his grief. _No_ , he told himself again, _there is something more that we can do. There has to be something we have not tried._

He watched as his father gave him a forlorn frown and began to fiddle with the golden, blue-stoned ring upon his finger. This ring – vilya – was the mightiest of the rings given to the Elves. Like all the Elven rings of power, vilya could be used to preserve and renew life. It was because of vilya that Imladris was hidden from enemies and a protective and soothing aura surrounded the Last Homely House, and it was through vilya that Elrond often had success in healing wounds that others could not heal. Suddenly, the Ranger wondered why his father had only used simple means of aiding Legolas; he had to ask, “Ada, is there nothing more you can do?”

Not understanding the allusion, Elrond only answered, “I have done all that I can, ion nin.”

 _He has done what he could, yes, but not_ all _that he could_. The Peredhel had not used the magic of the ring against the foul magic of the stone – at least, not that Aragorn had noted. Elrond did not use the ring without good cause, and even then, he did so sparingly. The ring did not wane in power, nor did it have the ill effects upon Elrond that the other rings of power had held for their non-Elven masters, but yet, the Peredhel was cautious in its implementation.

“No,” he told his father, for he was not willing to let his Ada forgo trying sorcery if it would help his lover, “no, you have not done all that you could.” He went to Elrond, took his father’s hand in his, and held out the ring-wearing limb. Estel repeated, “Can you not help him? Can it not help him?”

This drew Thranduil’s attention; the King realized what Aragorn meant now, for he had seen him take Elrond’s hand. “Can vilya not be used?” the King asked with renewed faith. Thranduil stood, letting go of Legolas’ arm while doing so, and walked around the bed and to Elrond. “Then we have not exhausted all means of saving my son, Elrond. Why will you not help him?”

“I have been debating whether to mention this possibility and thought that only as a last resort we might try the ring’s power. I did not want to give you false hope,” the Peredhel said as he pulled his hand free of his human son’s hold and began to twist vilya again, looping it around his finger in absentminded agitation. “I worry to use anymore magic upon Greenleaf. I do not know how it will affect him, Thranduil. Already he is under a spell.”

With the human and King surrounding him, Elrond looked vaguely uncomfortable. He was treading in unfamiliar waters, for they already knew little about the stone periapts and what would happen to the Prince upon its removal, much less how interfering with the stone by using vilya’s magic might affect Legolas. “Vilya can facilitate healing and reinvigorate life, but what if Greenleaf’s mind is beyond repair from having been deprived of air? He would live as a shadow of the Elf he was before. Or what if his body is forever broken and he is no longer able to move? He would require assistance for even the most basic of needs, requiring someone to feed and tend him for the rest of his days. It would be a horrible life for him and if his mind was not also ruined, I think he would fade from the sorrow such a life would bring.”

Pacing to the balcony doors and then returning to them with his hands clutched in the cloth of his robes behind his back, the healer listed even more risks, not arguing against his using vilya, it seemed, but looking for dispensation to employ the magical ring despite these possibilities, “I can help to heal his broken body, but his faer may still desire respite from grief. Letting his body die would be a quicker, easier passing than letting him waste away from sorrow until it consumes him completely.”

With a tired sigh, the Ranger returned to his chair and took the laegel’s hand in his again. He did not wish for Legolas to go for very long without having someone’s affection, just in case the scar was awakened even though he believed that the laegel’s mind was slumbering still. Behind him, the two Elves carried on, oblivious to the human’s reticence and onset of joyous weeping. While Estel had railed against their despair for Legolas, never having agreed with their belief that the Wood-Elf would perish, knowing now that there was still a way for his Greenleaf to live the Ranger realized how far gone his hope had actually been. He did not need to continue to argue with his father – Thranduil would do a fine job of it.

“Why have you not mentioned this before? Mend his rhaw, Elrond, please. You say that you would not have him suffer needlessly,” Thranduil told the Peredhel, “but yet, you would let his body languish in agony.”

“Greenleaf has suffered beyond what anyone should be forced to endure. If it is his determination to die, then who am I to stop him?” the Peredhel told the King. “I say to you, Thranduil – if his body heals and his soul does not, he will still die and his passing will be more painful than it is now, where he might die peacefully in his sleep. Besides, I thought to wait to see if Legolas improved on his own, for if he does, then it shows that his rhaw is not beyond repair and his faer is not yet shorn of his will to endure.”

Although Estel could not see the two with his back turned to them, he heard plainly how the King shamelessly begged Elrond, imploring him tearfully, “Then let it be his choice: let him have a choice to make. Help his body to heal, Elrond. Do not let my son die. We can give him hope to live once his body is healed, and if still his grief takes him, then at least it will be his true desire to die and not because of the abuse of his body.”

Plaintive and lachrymose, the King’s sentiment was entirely heartfelt. In that moment of Thranduil beseeching Elrond to take the chance in helping Legolas, Aragorn could forgive every wrong that the King had committed against him and forget the insults and fists that he had so often thrown at Legolas. In that moment, Estel knew that Thranduil loved Thranduilion. _He will convince Ada to use the ring,_ the human knew. He rubbed at the welling tears in his eyes and took a better hold of his lover’s hand. _Thank Eru that Thranduil wishes him to live instead of die; else, Ada would not try._ He knew that the King would have his way and was glad to have set Thranduil upon the path to trying vilya against the sorcery of the stone. He might have convinced his father to use the ring of power, but it was poignant to Elrond for Thranduil to do so, for the Elvenking spoke as a father to another father, and his pleas would not be easily cast aside.

Estel opened his mouth to agree with Thranduil and beg his father, as well, but all he had meant to say was forgotten at once when the hand he held moved in his. Legolas’ fingers tightened around the human’s, the long, cream-colored digits entwining with Estel’s tea-colored fingers. At first, Aragorn imagined that the Elf did not know who sat beside him, holding his hand, and only reacted out of need for affection. But then, Legolas opened his eyes, squinting as if it were bright though the light was relatively dim inside his bedchambers, and it was directly to Estel that he looked.

“He is awake,” he told the two Elves behind him, who stopped their discussion at once.

Thranduil and Elrond gathered behind the human to place themselves in Legolas’ view and also to see for themselves as the laegel regained sentience. Neither had held any hope that the Prince would live long enough to awaken on his own; so, it was with surprised, loving cheer that they gazed down upon the laegel. The Prince’s unexpected awareness did not mean that the Elf was well; they would still need to use vilya to facilitate the Wood-Elf’s healing if he was to have any chance at survival, but even if the ring’s power did not work and Legolas died still, the two elders were glad to have the chance to speak to the laegel.

Aragorn held no such morbid thoughts of the moribund Wood-Elf; his delight to see his lover awake signaled to him that the laegel would be well. Vilya would work, the periapt would be removed, and Mithfindl would be found. For the first time in the last few days, in fact, the Ranger was certain that all would be well. The beautiful blue irises of his lover’s bloodshot eyes promised this – he had thought never to see those cerulean orbs again, much less have them fixated on him. The laegel coughed blood out of his mouth. It sprayed out in a shower of tiny drops that splattered across the blanket and onto Aragorn’s face and neck, who had leant over so that he could try to hear what the Elf might say. He felt his lover’s essence hit his visage but did not care in the least.

“Greenleaf,” he whispered to his lover and was unable to keep himself from beaming at the laegel, so happy was he to see the Prince aware.

“Estel,” the laegel whispered in return. His voice a mere rasp, the Prince could not seem to draw in enough air after speaking to continue, although it appeared that he had something he wished to say to the human.

“I am here,” he told Legolas. He leant in farther so that the Wood-Elf would be sure to see him, to know that he was there and listening.

He knew that the Elf saw him, for Legolas’ bruised face was turned to him and followed the Ranger as he shifted to be even closer to the Elf, but the laegel said again, “Estel.” With desperation and a groan of agony, the Prince repeated, “Estel.”

He was trying not to weep at the state of his lover. He did not want to upset the Elf. Yet, the tears fell from his bearded face and onto the laegel’s thinned, bruised, and blanketed chest. “I am right here, and I am going nowhere,” he promised. “I am here, Legolas.”

Again, the Wood-Elf coughed, this time causing his whole body to shimmy in suffering. From where he stood behind the Ranger, Elrond spoke up, “Greenleaf. Do not try to speak if it pains you.”

But the Prince paid neither Elrond nor Thranduil any mind nor looked in their direction. He had eyes only for Estel. An evanescent, odd smile graced the laegel’s battered face; abruptly, the Wood-Elf wheezed in discomfort, his eyes closed, and the Prince inhaled a sputtering breath that he exhaled as if his body were a bag of flour slowly leaking its contents; the air escaped from Legolas’ mouth leisurely and uselessly until the Elf’s body was slack and emptied of it, as if he had exhaled his final breath. This lasted only a moment, but the Ranger, who had feared that this single moment had been the Elf’s death rattle, had never heard a sweeter sound than the gurgling, choking breath that the Prince gasped in, while soon after his eyes flew open and his body regained a normal bearing.

He had many things he wished to say to the Elf. As he could only assume that Legolas thought that he was the one who had attacked him just a few hours ago, beating and defiling him yet again, the Ranger held his tongue out of fear that he would upset the laegel. Instead, he only smiled at his lover, asking the Wood-Elf, “Do you need water, Legolas?”

“Estel,” the Elf croaked, his voice cracking with pain. The Wood-Elf repeated himself as if he were muddled as to who sat before him, but there was no confusion in the laegel’s face – only relief.

He had no idea what the laegel wanted from him or what comfort he could give the Elf. He feared that the Prince would accuse him of attacking him this morning and that he would want the human gone in belief that Aragorn was his rapist. Even though all now knew that Mithfindl was the perpetrator of the excruciation of the Prince, Legolas did not know this, or so the Ranger assumed. If the Adan had to leave the Silvan’s side to alleviate Legolas’ sorrow, then he would do so gladly, but should vilya not work or the laegel allow his despair to take him, it would haunt the rest of the human’s days should he not be there when the Prince passed.

“Do not wear yourself out, ion nin,” Thranduil told his son. He moved to sit beside where Aragorn leant over the bed. Although the King sat in the line of sight of the laegel, still Legolas paid no one any mind except the Ranger. If it bothered the King to be so ignored, the Ranger did not notice, for his own attention was solely for Legolas.

The Prince’s brow furrowed and cleared, and then furrowed and cleared again, while his bruised lips twitched with words that he seemed unable to find the breath to form. Finally, Aragorn put his ear against the laegel’s mouth, his stubbled cheek resting against the Elf’s contused, chafed cheek, just so that he could touch the Elf without placing a hand upon any of the horrendous bruises upon the rest of Legolas’ body. He prayed that he was not frightening the Prince with his nearness.

“Estel.” Barely audible, the Wood-Elf Prince whispered, “It was not you.”

The Ranger’s heart leapt against his ribcage, his mind suddenly reeling at hearing the very words he had longed to hear since first that the Prince had accused him. He whispered back into the pointed, delicate shell of his lover’s ear, “No, my love. It was not.”

The Ranger brought his free arm up so that he could press against the other side of the Prince’s face, pushing the Elf’s cheek gently but firmly into his. It was the closest he was willing to come to embrace the mortally wounded Wood-Elf, although his joy at hearing Legolas’ declaration made him want to take the laegel in his arms.

“I am sorry.” The Wood-Elf tried to extricate his hand from where the Ranger held it within his own, and so unwillingly, the Ranger let go although he did not move back from where he held his face tight to the Prince’s face. Although even this slight effort must have pained him, the laegel fisted his hand in the front of the Ranger’s tunic to hold him there, to keep him from moving away. Legolas told his human lover, his voice sounding stronger the more he managed to say, “I am sorry, Estel.”

“Do not apologize, Greenleaf, please.” Unashamedly, the Ranger sniveled against the Prince’s shoulder, his hand pressing the laegel’s face so tightly against his own that he must’ve been hurting the young Elf, although Legolas did not complain. They all knew who had done this to the Prince, but to be certain, to be able to pass judgment even should the laegel die before the culprit was caught, the Ranger asked, “Do you know who it was, Greenleaf? Tell us and we will see his life is ended, my love.”

He could feel the two Elves behind him moving in agitation as they waited for Legolas’ answer. Even whispering, Elrond and Thranduil heard what the Prince had thus far said and heard also each of Estel’s replies, such that when the laegel finally managed to cough out the name of his attacker, there was no longer any doubt in anyone’s mind that Mithfindl was to blame.


	46. Chapter 46

When the Ranger had been only a boy, Estel had broken his arm upon falling from a horse. The day had been like any other day of the Adan’s youth – he had been following his twin brothers around the yards, the fields, the house, and the stables, trying to mimic their bearing and lordliness, while absorbing every word, story, and joke they had said. Elladan and Elrohir had always welcomed the human child’s presence, as they did even now, for they had adored him from the moment they met him as a toddler and only grew to love him more the longer Estel stayed in the Last Homely House. He had not always been the most patient of children, however, and often his two brothers became frustrated with his constant tagging along and the endless questions he asked in his untrammelled curiosity.

That day, the agitated twins had told Estel that he was too young to come with them and demanded that he not follow, for they had been set to take instructions to the border patrol on Glorfindel’s behalf and did not have time to watch out for the young human while doing so. But being willful and his feelings hurt, Estel had tried to join them in their ride, anyway. He had climbed onto a horse unused to such a small master, without a saddle, and taken off at a breakneck speed in order to catch up to them. He had made it only as far as the courtyard before accidentally sliding off the quickly moving mare; his arm became caught under him during his fall, breaking it cleanly but painfully on the flagstones.

When hours later the twins had returned from their task, they had found Estel in his bed, tears drying upon his face with Elrond sitting by him, soothing the pitiful Adan child with warm milk and a book. While breaking his arm had hurt, it had hurt Estel more that he had not been able to keep up with his twin brothers, for being young, the Adan had yet to understand that he would never be as fast, agile, or smart as they, for they had millennia of experience and hardy Elven bodies in their favor.

However, Elladan and Elrohir had sustained the worst injuries that day, as their hearts had broken to know that the human brother who loved them without condition had damaged himself because he wanted so desperately to be like them, to be one of them, and they had left him behind with rude dismissal. Because of the guilt and the sorrow they had felt for being so irritated with the human ere he had hurt himself, Elladan and Elrohir had pled with Elrond to fix the human child using vilya, to spare the Adan the pain of recovery and the potential lasting effects of his dominant arm being damaged. They had not wanted Estel to suffer nor for him to have to wear a splint for weeks on end while his arm mended. The twins had pled with their father to hasten his curing. At the time, the young human had not known exactly what his foster father might have done to aid his recovery, but he had known that Elves had magic, of course, for he had learnt all he could of the tales of the Elves, Edain, and other beings. Elrond had denied his twin sons the comfort of having their human brother mended quickly, but not for spite.

As Aragorn watched Legolas writhe and twitch, his breathing no more than an occasional pained gasp and then whimpered exhale, the Ranger recalled the day he broke his arm, remembering something that he had not thought of in years. _Ada refused to hasten the bone’s reknitting because he said that injuries are lessons; he said that if no one suffered the consequences of one’s actions, then one’s deeds, whether good or evil, would be meaningless. A broken arm might teach me not to be so hasty, to take caution before acting. Watching me suffer it might teach the twins patience in dealing with their human sibling._ His wise Ada did not often use vilya for drastic healing. The Elf Lord used vilya daily – constantly, actually, for it was always actively keeping Rivendell safe – but to use the ring outright to patch up wounds was a last means for Elrond’s end of healing. He thought to himself of his father’s words those many years ago, _But there is no lesson in this for Legolas and no reason for him to suffer to learn one. These wounds are not caused by his actions. If anyone has a lesson to learn from this it is me, but letting Greenleaf suffer because I could not control my temper on the training fields months ago is a hard levy for Legolas._

Aragorn held the entirety of Legolas’ attention and was not eager to share the laegel with the two elders. Although Elrond had promised the others to find them should Legolas’ condition change, he had not yet done so because Thranduil had not yet let up his pleas to Elrond. It might have done the Prince good to have the twins and Kalin with him, as well, but Estel was not leaving Legolas to find them. He had feared that the Prince would shun him but the Elf seemed to want him near, so Aragorn was staying as close to the Wood-Elf as possible. If Legolas drew any comfort from his presence at all, then the human would stay there until he rotted in his boots.

 _I wish they would take their argument outside,_ he rued yet again, hearing but not truly listening to the conversation that Elrond and Thranduil held only an arm’s length away. Legolas kept his gaze upon the Ranger with his hand holding as tight as he could to the human’s wrist, as if he feared that should he lose sight or grip of Aragorn that the human would disappear. With the hand of the arm that Legolas did not hold on to, Estel gently swept the tangled, bath damped hair out of his lover’s face, his digits lingering over every bruise, scratch, and scrape upon the fair visage that he held dearer to him than any other he had ever seen or would ever see. He had also feared that Legolas would not soon allow the human to touch him, but often the laegel would move his face into the Ranger’s fingers as they lighted upon his skin. He would crawl into the bed and hold the Elf if he were not afraid of exacerbating the Prince’s wounds.

“Estel,” the Silvan said with a sighing sibilation. Continually, the Prince whispered the human’s name although he seemed unable to tell the Adan what he needed from him.

 _I wish that he would sleep,_ the human told himself as he rubbed the pad of his thumb along the corner of the Elf’s mouth, where spittle had gathered in the scabbed corner where his upper and bottom lips joined. To the human’s ever-increasing worry, blood began to trickle down from the Wood-Elf’s nose and onto Legolas’ bruise-split upper lip. The Ranger took up the swatch of linen that he had left on the nightstand. It was already soaked in the Elf’s essence but he did not want to let go of the Wood-Elf long enough to cross the room to obtain more. _If he could sleep, he would find peace for a short while, at least._ Whereas before he had thought only for the Elf to awaken so that he would know that his lover would live, now that Aragorn was certain that his Ada would use the powers of the Elven ring to ensure Legolas’ survival, he wanted the Elf to sleep, to rest without having to endure the pain of his injuries. For whatever reason, perhaps because of the very agony that the Ranger wished Legolas would sleep to escape, the Wood-Elf could not find slumber.

After giving the human a plaintive, agonized smile that lasted only a moment, Legolas mewled as he inhaled, having stretched his torso too far in just trying to breathe. Again, the laegel panted out with a groan, “Estel.”

Having blotted away the trickle of blood from Legolas’ nose, the Ranger tossed the linen back to the nightstand so that he could lean in to the Silvan. With his ear against the Prince’s mouth and his cheek along the Elf’s once more, he spoke directly into the laegel’s ear, imploring his lover, “Tell me, Greenleaf. Tell me what you need and I will procure it. Whatever it may be.”

But the Elf could not seem to tell him. Legolas closed his eyes and his breathing became quiet again, although not ceasing as it had earlier when the Ranger thought he had lost his lover to Námo. Unable to stop touching the Wood-Elf, Aragorn tried to soothe the Prince into sleep by stroking his arm and shoulder, his upper chest and face. _Why can Ada not just help him?_ the Ranger complained and returned his attention to the two Elves speaking behind him to find out why Elrond had yet to aid the laegel. Elrond was not yet swayed, it seemed, for he had yet to place his hands upon the Wood-Elf Prince, to invoke the power of vilya into helping the laegel, and Estel decided that he would join in the argument if need be.

Before, when Elrond and the twins had been spreading their liniment and bandages over Legolas, Estel had not noticed that his father had not done as he always did while tending a patient; normally, the Peredhel would murmur and hum under his breath. An incantation was not needed to make the power of the ring work, but Elrond did these things to focus his attention – and thus the healing power of vilya – on the convalescence that needed to take place. When used for prolongation and recuperation of life, the power of the Elven ring was not exactly spellcraft. Its mere presence cast a healing ambience for anyone in its vicinity and even now, being close to the ring was aiding Legolas. Indeed, it was vilya that not only protected the valley of Imladris with its powers, but also granted those inside the vale the tranquility and rejuvenescence for which the Last Homely House was renowned.

“I have used it upon him to a lesser degree every few days since he returned to the valley,” Aragorn heard Elrond tell the King now that his attention was on them once more. They had moved their conversation away from the laegel’s bed, although not out of his hearing. Even now, the Prince’s head lolled to where his father and Minyatar debated the use of the ring although his eyes remained shut: his hand stayed fisted in Aragorn’s sleeve and did not relax in the least.

“His leg would never have healed as it has had I not used it upon him,” the Peredhel argued to the Elf-King, both Elves still standing behind the human such that he could not see them during their heated discussion. “You speak as if I would have him suffer through this pain out of malice.”

Thranduil countered, “Then why will you not use it now, since you have used it upon him to aid him before?”

He heard his Ada sigh. “I can use it to help his body mend, Thranduil, as I have done these past two months, as I do for anyone whose body is broken. I have said to you and I will say again – I fear what effect that more magic will have upon him when the periapt’s spell is not yet broken. Let us allow Greenleaf to heal on his own for a while, and if he does not give in to his grief before then, we will remove the periapt and then I will do what I can to aid him.”

“He will die before then. You can use vilya upon him just enough to ensure that the worst of his wounds are healed, I know this. Give him chance to live!” the Elf-King charged, his voice growing louder as his ire increased. “I know that the ring bestows greater powers of healing than mere facilitation. You used them upon Celebrian, Elrond. You brought her body back to health, and while she still sailed, she had the choice to sail or stay, rather than dying from her injuries!”

“Celebrian was not under the thrall of a spell, Thranduil!” The Lord of Imladris was no more accustomed to being argued with than was Thranduil, and neither was willing to lose ground on the topic. He could hear the increasing sorrow in Elrond’s voice. His Ada was not hesitant to use the ring out of anything but concern for Legolas, but the Elvenking acted as if Elrond were unwilling to use it out of vindictiveness. Additionally, Thranduil’s concern for his son, while touching, was causing him to lash out at Elrond. His bringing up Celebrian was relevant but not well timed.

At hearing the shouts of his Minyatar and Ada, the Wood-Elf Prince’s eyes flew open in alarm, his entire body twitched as if he intended to rise, and he tried to look around him for whatever danger had caused the two elders whom he loved as fathers to rail at each other. _I have had it with their arguing,_ he complained, wishing that Thranduil would either win the argument or that the two would take it elsewhere. He was on the brink of shouting with them – or at them, perhaps. Aragorn ran his fingers gently over the laegel’s beaten brow, smoothing out lines of consternation and worry thereon, saying, “Rest, Greenleaf. Sleep, if you can.”

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“Estel.” The Ranger had not left his side since learning that Legolas was sentient. _I have to make him listen. I must convince him._ Even with the drapes now covering the windowed balcony doors, for Aragorn had asked his father to cover them at seeing how the radiance of the sun hurt the Elf’s eyes, the light of the room was still intense for the Wood-Elf and he squinted to block some of the too bright illumination. “Estel. Please.”

“I am here.” As he had each time that the Prince said his name, the Ranger leant forward until he was nearly lying across the bed. “What is it, my love? What do you need?”

Estel did not understand what Legolas was trying to tell him. _Why will they not let me die?_ The Prince blinked his eyes tightly shut only to reopen them when the self-imposed darkness of his closed lids incited within him the terror of his memories. _What have they done to keep me here?_ His eyes were the only part of his body that he could move freely. _Let me die,_ he pled to them, wishing he had the breath to say the words aloud. To move his eyes or turn his neck caused the immense pressure in his head to upsurge until he supposed his head might soon burst.

The memory of a melon came to his aching mind – for target practice once while here in the vale, he and the twins had shot their arrows at an intact, overripe cantaloupe they had found discarded along the field of training, likely from someone’s picnic. The first arrow had struck the melon in what must have been the perfect spot, for it ruptured across the fence and onto the ground in jagged, juicy chunks of aromatic fruit flesh. If Legolas could not soon find sleep or death to quit his worrisome thoughts, he considered that his head would explode just as the melon had done. He almost wished that it would, just to relieve the pressure.

“Sleep, Greenleaf,” Aragorn told him again, pressing his lips softly to the Wood-Elf’s temple, just where the worst of the pain seemed to emanate. Again, the Ranger took to stroking the Prince’s forehead. It soothed the laegel beyond measure to be touched so gently by his lover in this way, even as he feared to be hurt by the Ranger again. The disparate desire and fright of the human might soon drive the laegel mad, he felt; that is, if he were not already mad.

“I cannot,” he tried to whisper and was unsure if he said the words or if he merely tried. Since first he had said the human’s name, Legolas had been trying to beseech the Ranger to let him die. He had thought perhaps that Estel could not hear him or that he was not willing to listen, but as time went on and as the poppy he’d been forced to imbibe lessened in its effects, his mind began to sharpen and Legolas realized that no one understood him because he only thought he’d been pleading with them to kill him. He rolled his head towards where the human was sitting. He would not give up trying, though, and strained again to solicit aid from his lover and rapist, “Help me, Estel.”

Aragorn once more pressed his cheek to the laegel’s cheek, his ear at the Elf’s mouth so that he could hear the softly spoken pleas of the Silvan Prince. The pleasant feeling of the man’s scratchy whiskers against his chafed flesh and the piquant smell of the Adan caused the Prince’s mind to reel – he longed to reach up and stroke the human’s bearded chin as he so often had since becoming Estel’s lover, but he also ached to push the Ranger away from him out of disgust to have his attacker so near. This time, at least, the laegel had managed to say more than just the Ranger’s name. “I will help you however I can, Greenleaf.”

Trying his best to take a deep breath so that he could speak loudly enough for the Adan to hear, Legolas told the Ranger, saying more than he had yet to say since they had found him under the bushes in the pleasance, “Help me, Estel. I cannot die.”

“You will not, Greenleaf. I will not let you, I promise. Ada is doing all that he can,” the Ranger swore, but then looked over his shoulder.

Now that Legolas was talking more than just to repeat the human’s name, Thranduil and Elrond ceased their argument to watch the laegel and hear what he said. He saw his Minyatar frown and his father’s tremulous smile to hear his words. They thought that he begged to be saved when he begged to be forsaken. _That is not what I mean,_ he thought but could not explain to the human. Closing his eyes, the laegel tried to catch his breath, hoping to gather more strength so that he could continue.

He had listened to some of what his father had been arguing with Elrond over – he knew that his Ada wanted his Minyatar to save him using the magic of vilya. Legolas wanted death. If he’d a dagger, the laegel would plunge it into his own heart or drag it across his throat. If he’d been able to walk, he would limp his way to the balcony and throw himself over it headfirst. The agony of his broken rhaw was a torment greater than he had ever experienced. Many times over his many years, Legolas had been injured. He had been beaten, stabbed, cut, shot with arrows and darts, been poisoned from vile substances of Orc make and once from food that had soured, had broken various bones and strained muscles – so many different injuries had he endured that he could never have hoped to recount all but the most severe. Recently, the Prince had undergone torment that most Elves would have chosen not to survive, but Legolas had lived. Yet, never in his long life had he felt this much misery.

As he laid in his bed, his muscles twitching and spasming while his skin seemed stretched too tight over his swollen, beaten flesh, Legolas realized that he had survived an Elf warrior’s lifetime of wounds because during the worst of his pain he had been unconscious. When he had hewn the flesh from his thigh, the greater part of his mending directly after doing the deed had been spent comatose. After being attacked by the two merchants in the woods, he had most willingly been drugged by Estel into sleeping – this sleep had kept him from the agony of his abuse and the aftereffects of it. After the many beatings he had experienced by his Ada’s hand, the laegel had always been able to go to his room, lay his head down upon his pillow, and sleep for a while to forget the corporeal and emotional agony.

But now, when his pain was at its greatest height and his sorrow at its lowest nadir, he could not sleep and he could not die. Mithfindl had forbid him to do either. Unconsciousness would not take him, sleep would not claim him, and try though he might, and try he did, he could not sever his faer from rhaw. There was no respite from the pain and no hope for one unless he could convince the Ranger to release him from whatever held him alive and sentient – or to kill him.

“I cannot die,” he repeated to them with the intent to make them understand. “Please, Estel. Help.”

“You will not die,” his father interrupted. The Prince opened his eyes in time to see Thranduil give Elrond the same pleading look that the Ranger had given Elrond just a moment ago. Why they did so Legolas could not fathom, nor did he dawdle upon it, for his Ada was decrying the solution that his son longed for – his demise.

 _I have to make Estel understand. He must be the one to do it. He is the only one who would, whether from hate or love._ It pained him to do it, but the Prince fisted his hand into the Ranger’s tunic more tightly so that he could pull the human nearer to him. Without the strength, he barely managed to tug at the human, but in response, Estel stood from his chair and moved to sit next to Legolas, his rear pressed snugly against the laegel’s hip, his hands stroking the Elf’s face and arm in comfort. The desperate human could think of little else to do.

“Help me, Estel,” he begged, shifting his head towards the human. Tears sprung to his eyes as the simple reflection of Anor from a button on the human’s tunic seemed to blind him with its refulgence. “I cannot sleep. I cannot die. Let me.”

Still Aragorn did not comprehend but his heartrending supplications had an unintended effect. At hearing the Wood-Elf seemingly begging Estel not to let him die, Elrond could no longer refuse to use the power of vilya to accelerate the Prince’s mending, despite that he still feared that it would harm the Elf more than it would aid him. His Minyatar, believing that his Silvan son beseeched the Ranger to help him to live when truly he begged for death, found that his arguments and worries over using vilya against the imprecated stone were trivial in comparison to the laegel’s suffering. He had wanted some sign from Legolas that he wished to live, to fight his grief and prevail so that Elrond would know that he did not heal the laegel’s broken rhaw only to let his faer wither in despair – his misinterpretation of the Prince’s begging had given him this sign. Elrond’s purpose now set before him, he wiped the tears from his face, straightened his shoulders and his robes, and strode to the bed.

“Move back, ion nin,” the Peredhel told his human son, none too gently pushing him away from Legolas so that he could sit just where Estel had been sitting.

“Please,” he tried to beg the Imladrian now in hopes of making Elrond stop, for having heard enough of his Ada and Minyatar’s conversation, he knew that the Peredhel would try to use vilya to heal him. However, he had expended all the strength he had left and his words were little more than a soft hiss of exhaled, stale air. Even if the ring’s power ameliorated his pain or healed his wounds, the laegel wanted to end his suffering forever and nothing short of his death would do.

Still believing that his Silvan son pled for their aid to help him survive, Elrond pushed the sleeves back on his robe, removed the blanket from atop the Prince, and spread the open collar of the laegel’s borrowed nightshirt, saying quietly, “Ilúvatar help us if vilya only worsens his torment.”

At the bottom of the Bruinen’s falls, boulders were scattered through the deep river under the cascades. Upon the rocks, the Loudwater beat a relentless rhythm, over millennia wearing down the stones into shapes different from what they had started. With the air from the force of its falling does the water combine, making a great cloud of mist thicker than mere fog. When Elrond touched Legolas’ bared chest, his ringed hand lit in a translucent grey aura that crawled over his skin like the Bruinen waterfall’s fog. The Elf’s skin turned clammy and cold while the fog moved over the laegel slowly – just like the cold, thick mist of the Loudwater.

It started with the flesh above his heart and slinked across his contused, aching chest, followed the cracked bones of his ribcage around to his back where it clung to his spine as haze does to the surface of the river. From there, it drifted downwards to his lower back and rear, causing gooseflesh to rise upon his skin at the odd sensation of it dawdling down the back of his thighs, behind his knees, to his feet, and then overlapping at his toes to waft up the front side of his lower limbs. When the strange grey haze floated across his thighs, it pooled at the marred skin of his shattered flesh, lingering there though he could feel it continue its way up the other thigh, skimming across his groin, his navel, and then his belly. Upwards still it went, over his shoulders, down his arms, and along his neck. He could feel the dank coolness of it soothe the heat behind his eyes and the swollen contusions on his face.

He looked to his Minyatar to see that Elrond’s eyes were closed tightly, his mouth uttering unintelligible words that could have been a song, if he’d been able to hear it. The Ranger and his King were staring at him, but they did not watch the gentle aura as it consumed him, making him think that they could not see it. They watched his eyes, though, and saw as the pain began to fade from his features.

Slithering along his veins as fog often follows a watercourse, the healing power of the ring clung to his blood and thereby spread to all inner parts of his body. With each stronger beat of his weary heart, the laegel felt his once ailing body now firming, his torn skin knitting together, his bruised flesh fading, and his pain washing away. The bright light that hurt his eyes now seemed dim. His throbbing thigh, where the scar had once lain, spread out in utter ease, its ever-present ache suddenly absent. So used to the ache of the scar was the Wood-Elf that now, with the ache utterly gone, he cried out in fearful relief.

At hearing this yelp, Elrond removed his hand and stood abruptly from the bed, stumbling in his hurry to be away from the Prince.

“Ada?” the Ranger asked, taking his father’s arm to steady him.

It was with concern that Elrond looked down upon Legolas, although the Prince was not entirely sure what had just happened or what he had done to cause his Minyatar to move away from him with such horror. He lay as he was, his agony so lessened that he considered, _Surely I am dying._

“I could feel it,” the Peredhel said wonderingly, halting the Prince’s cogitations. Having no clue as to what Elrond spoke of, Legolas only listened, his eyes still upon his Minyatar even while Estel returned to his seat against the Wood-Elf’s hip. “I could feel its potency, its promise. Its work is not done,” Elrond warned them. 


	47. Chapter 47

He had seen the magic of the Elves before. He had lived amongst them his whole life, save for when he had been in the wilds. However, the Ranger had never seen anything as remarkable as what he had seen his father do just now.

 _It is no wonder that he refuses to use it except in the direst of cases,_ the human thought as he tugged at the ties to the laegel’s borrowed nightshirt, spreading it over his lover’s chest to bare as much as he could. In awe of the remarkable change to the laegel’s body, the Ranger thought, _Ada is right. If harms could be so easily removed as the ones he has just eased upon Greenleaf, then there would be no fear of wrong action, much less celebration of rightful action._

Not but a few hours ago he had seen the laegel completely nude. He had seen his lover’s body in all of its tormented glory. So bruised and hurt had the Elf been that everyone had despaired of the Prince living more than a few more hours and at most a few more days. The Wood-Elf was not entirely healed: he was not as good as new. That was not how vilya worked. The ring of power only hastened the laegel’s own natural healing and Elrond had focused the restorative magic of vilya upon the life threatening wounds the Elf had sustained, not the superficial ones. Instead of bruises freshly made, the dark mottles upon the Elf’s alabaster hide were lessened considerably and the oldest of the bruises – the ones from the night of the feast that had been fading already – were now only light yellow smirches. The tightly swollen flesh of the Elf’s belly was back to normal, the internal injuries that had been done to him were resolved, as these had been among the grimmest and thus the focus of Elrond’s attention. The wheezing from the laegel’s lungs was now absent, as well, for vilya had mended the muscle and bone of the Wood-Elf’s torso so that he could breathe easily. Whereas before the Prince had worn Mithfindl’s handprints around his neck like an ebon collar, Legolas now had only a brownish tinge to the skin of his throat.

He could not help but to smile at his Greenleaf, who was looking bewilderedly at Elrond; even though Estel had heard his father’s proclamation that the work of the periapt was incomplete, he thought little of it for now. At least, he thought little of it until he turned his beaming smile to his Ada with the intent to give him thanks for helping his ailing lover. The horrified expression that the normally staid Peredhel wore did not diminish Aragorn’s gratitude and excitement, but he felt suddenly anxious. His worries were mostly this: _He has been unable to heal a fatal injury. Vilya has not been enough._ The Ranger was wrong, however, for Elrond had done exactly as he had intended and had healed the Wood-Elf to the point that his rhaw would now be able to mend on its own.

“We have made a mistake,” Elrond whispered to himself, his unringed hand clasping the ringed one in a tight fist.

“What do you mean, Elrond?” the Elf-King exclaimed. He had never seen the King so happy and once more, the human was glad that the King was happy to see his son alive rather than wishing him dead, as he had months previous. Thranduil’s excitement mirrored the Ranger’s own excitement, and he found himself grinning at the Elvenking and receiving a congenial smile in return. Thranduil wonderingly told the Prince, “You are mended! Or at least, enough so, I suppose. How do you feel, my son?”

Estel looked down to Legolas, for he was perturbed by the laegel’s silence. Although his lungs and chest were now relieved of the most gruesome of the battering he had endured, and thus the laegel was able to breathe easy, still the Wood-Elf Prince heaved in air. He asked the Prince, “Greenleaf? Are you well?”

In sudden remembrance that the imprecated stone was still upon his lover, the Adan removed his hands from the Elf, for he had forgotten that although his body was better, the young Elf’s mind was still under the thrall of the periapt and that Legolas might still have doubts about the Adan. When finally Legolas spoke, the Ranger’s exhilaration waned to hear the Elf say, “You should have let me die.” The Wood-Elf rolled to his side with a gasp of pain, having enough injuries still to cause it, and then swung his legs off the bed so that he sat upon the edge, his back to them. He asked his father, his Minyatar, and his lover in mournful complaint, “Why would you not let me die? What have you done to me?”

Immediately, the King walked around to the side of the bed on which his son sat. Thranduil held the Prince down by the shoulders so that he could not stand, confusion upon his face as he told the young Silvan, “Calm, Legolas. You are well. You are safe.”

“No, please,” the Prince bemoaned and pushed at his Ada’s hands that tried to keep him sitting upon the bed. “What have you done? You should have let me die,” the Silvan repeated as he tried to rise again. “Why can I not die?”

The Ranger leapt from the bed, to his feet, and then went around the Elf’s bed so that he could speak to the Prince. He did not know why the laegel thought that he should have died, but above all else, the human wanted to comfort his Elven lover. Yet, before he could reach where Thranduil struggled to keep Legolas sitting, Elrond gripped the human by his upper arm to tug him away from the laegel. Aragorn did not wish to leave the stricken Prince in his depressed state, but he listened to his father’s command when the Peredhel told him, “Go get your brothers to watch over Legolas for a few moments. I need to speak to you and Thranduil alone.”

Whatever had gone wrong, it was serious. The human could not fathom what was of such concern. Legolas was fraught and upset, but no more than what the Ranger would have expected. Vilya may have helped to heal his rhaw, but only time would be able to heal the laegel’s faer – time and the Ranger’s love and affection, or so he hoped. “Ada, I can stay,” he argued even as he meandered to the door with unwilling obeisance to his father’s demand, “and we can ask Kalin to find them.”

The Ranger had no more than said Kalin’s name before the sentry burst through the door, his eyes wild and mannerisms similar. When he faltered at the door in surprise at the sentry’s sudden appearance, his foster father quickly strode to the Adan and shoved him towards where Kalin stood in the doorway, shouting, “Go, Estel! Take Kalin with you to find Elrohir and Elladan. Now!”

At once and with the equally dismissed Kalin now on his heels, he left the room eagerly, for he was reluctant to leave but impatient to get back to the Wood-Elf. He no more than shut the door behind them than Kalin had hold of his arm to stop his progress down the hall. “Estel,” the sentry implored, grabbing onto the man’s other arm to keep him from walking away and to force the Ranger into facing him. “What has happened?”

Countering with his own question, Aragorn ignored the sentry to ask, “Have you seen my brothers? Do you know where they have gone?”

“After they checked on Galendil, they went down the hall. I believe I heard them in one of their rooms.” The Wood-Elf answered rapidly so that he could ask again, “What has happened?”

“What did you hear?” He did not want to waste time explaining to the sentry what he might already know and he was certain that the faithful sentry had been just outside the door the whole time, where he would have heard every word spoken.

Kalin would not release him without having the answers he sought, even though the Adan tried to tug his arms free of Kalin’s’ hands. “I heard everything. What does Lord Elrond mean that the periapt’s work is not done?”

“I am surprised that you did not break down the door when you heard your Prince speaking,” the Adan mildly teased the sentry, as he finally pulled free of the Wood-Elf’s hold. Feeling somewhat cross at the Elf’s impeding him, Estel turned to find his brothers. He did not have the patience to talk right now.

“Please,” the entry beseeched, on the verge of tears, it seemed to the human. He tried to walk away in hopes that Kalin would follow and he could speak to him while also searching for his brothers, but the sentry only grabbed onto the back of the Ranger’s tunic, yanking Estel to a stop once more. “What is happening? Is he well? Is my Prince better? What did Lord Elrond mean, Estel?”

The Ranger turned back to Kalin, his irritation at the sentry falling away when he saw the despair lurking in the Silvan’s frantic features. Blanketed in the ochre light from an airshaft overhead, the fair sentry looked so much like Legolas that it startled the Adan. While their defining features were different, the two Wood-Elves might have been brothers, so alike were they. Kalin was as kind and giving, as fierce a warrior and adept a killer, but also as tenderhearted as Legolas. He had thought earlier that should the Prince die the sentry might follow him into death; it seemed that he had been right. The Adan had known of lovers and family members who had given in to sorrow upon the death of a loved one, but Estel had never known a servant to do so.

 _But Kalin is not just his sentry. He is Greenleaf’s friend. One of his closest friends,_ he reminded himself, _who took care of Legolas when none of us could_. _When Greenleaf trusted none of us, he still trusted Kalin._

He could tell that his continued reticence in answering the sentry’s question was causing the Wood-Elf more distress, and so he shook the malaise from his mind to tell Kalin, “I honestly do not know. My father wants you and my brothers to keep Legolas company while he speaks to the King and I, which you have likely heard, but I know not of what he wishes to say. The moment that I know and am able,” he appeased the Elf, “I will share it with you, Kalin. I promise you.”

Scarcely mollified, the sentry nodded and let go of the human. Again, Estel began down the hall in search of the twins, but before he had taken two steps, Kalin repeated his question of a moment ago, saying, “Is he truly better? His wounds are healed?”

“Most of them. The gravest of them, yes,” he told the sentry, his exhilaration renewing at sharing the good news. He gave the sentry what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and must have succeeded, for Kalin breathed a deep sigh and smiled in return to hear the human say, “He will live, Kalin.”

“He will live if he wants to live,” the sentry replied sagely, which wiped the smile off the Ranger’s face.

Although Kalin was right, his portentous words caused Aragorn to recall Legolas’ odd statements. _Is that what he meant when he said that we should have let him die? Did he desire to die? Does he desire to die even now?_ he wondered during the short walk down the hall.

He found his twin brothers just where the sentry thought they would be. When earlier Kalin had stripped their rooms bare of the linen upon the beds and the towels by the washstands, he had not been gentle. And so, after seeing to Galendil and unwilling to stray far from their Wood-Elf brother, the twins had gone only as far as their own rooms, where they had busied themselves picking up the bedding and other things that had been tossed to the floor. Even now, in Elrohir’s room, they were gathering the shards of the water pitcher that the Wood-Elf sentry had accidentally knocked to the floor earlier during his panicked retrieval of linens.

“I am sorry for that,” Kalin told Elrohir as he and the Ranger walked into the room. The younger twin looked up with a sad smile for the sentry’s apology but his teasing reply never left his mouth. At seeing his human brother, who he had thought would not leave Legolas’ side unless their Silvan brother had died, Elrohir forgot what he had been about to say to Kalin.

“Think nothing of it,” Elladan began on his twin’s behalf as he mopped water up with a tunic, but upon raising his head, as well, to look at the sentry to whom he spoke, he also saw that Estel was there and queried instead, “Greenleaf?”

“He is awake, which is why Ada sent me here to find you,” the Ranger told his brothers. He was unable to keep the smile from his face as he explained, “Thranduil convinced Ada to use vilya to ease the worst of Legolas’ wounds. He is awake, he is better, and Ada wants you now to keep him company for a while.”

Rather than the joy he had expected from his brothers, the twins shared an indecipherable glance between them that could have meant anything, but knowing his brothers as he did, Estel thought it likely that they held concerns similar to their Ada, although still the Ranger could not fathom what they might be. _It does not matter, I will know soon enough, once they are keeping watch over Legolas so that Ada can tell me._ With this in mind and keen to return to the laegel’s rooms, he repeated to his brothers to hurry them, “Ada wants you two and Kalin to stay with Legolas for a while. Come.”

For a second time, the identical brothers looked between them, though this time, Elladan nodded at Elrohir, who had said nothing aloud that would prompt Elladan’s agreement. Together, moving as if they were puppets attached to the same strings, the twin brothers stood, leaving the shards of pottery and water on the floor for now. “Let us go, then, and see our Greenleaf,” Elrohir proclaimed, breaking into a guarded but sunny smile that his twin soon sported, as well.

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He could feel it inside his mind although he was not sure what it was. He had no concept of what the periapt was or how it had been used on him, did not know that his will had been subverted by another, and so could only conclude that he had lost what little sanity he had managed to retain after the last several months of continued torment, abuse, and recrimination from his attackers, the mar, his father, and himself.

He pushed aside the blanket that covered his legs. Straightaway, his King tried yet again to keep him from rising, telling him, “Ion nin, sit down. Rest. You are not yet recuperated.”

Legolas could tell this for himself. The power of vilya had relieved the Wood-Elf Prince of the worst of his injuries – those that had threatened to kill him – but he could still feel them upon his person. “I have to dress,” he tried to explain.

Trying to recall his purpose was akin to trying to hold smoke in hand. Each time he tried to grasp the reasoning for his haste, it flitted away from him. What he did know, however, was that he was consumed with anger. So great was his ire that he felt that if his father did not stop trying to restrain him, thus keeping him from implementation of his given charge, he would be forced to hurt his Ada just to be free to do as he had been bid.

Looking even more concerned than usual, Elrond stood away from the Prince, his hands fisted in the cloth of his robe. The Imladrian appeared very much as if he wanted to reach out to Legolas, but when the laegel stumbled forward when trying to stand, his Minyatar stepped back, as if afraid to touch the young Silvan.

His father had given up trying to keep him sitting, so instead sat himself in a chair by the bed. Thranduil watched with a strange smile as his progeny inspected himself. He thought of his Ada, _Is he happy that I live? Or is he happy that he will not have to suffer my dying a humiliating death from rape and torture?_

The Prince was dressed only in the nightshirt borrowed from his father. He pulled it over his head, revealing his body to the two elders in the room without shame, for he had more important matters to which to attend. The young Elf examined his body. He had not seen the new injuries done to him in the garden, but he had certainly felt them whilst they were being made. It was as his father had said – Legolas was mended well enough. In fact, vilya had done more than what Legolas had thought possible. The flesh of his marred thigh – which originally had borne a simple curved scar, then the subsequent alteration to the scar from his constant pestering it by gouging it with his fingers, and lastly, the myriad and deep mars from his having tried to cut away the loathsome essence that had spawned in that part of his body – was as flawless and healthy as it had been the many years of his life before the early spring of this past year.

“It is gone,” he rasped aloud, though he spoke to himself. “The scar is gone.”

Elrond gingerly walked a wide circle of the Prince to stand in front of him, while still avoiding coming too close to Legolas. “I am not surprised. It was hard to control the focus of vilya’s powers of healing when you were injured so grimly in so many different ways,” the Peredhel explained, as if he were apologizing to the Silvan Prince for mending this damage.

Over the long course of his life, the laegel had felt confused before, certainly. There were times when he had not known the right decision or had been lost, figurative and literally. This was not confusion. Legolas knew that Estel had not defiled him; Legolas knew that Estel had defiled him. He did not waver between the two facts, but knew them simultaneously. The Ranger had told him to trust him, that he had not and would not hurt him, and the Wood-Elf believed this without doubt; Legolas knew that the Ranger could not be trusted, that he had and would hurt him, and he believed this without doubt, as well. The only thing of which he was certain was this – in the garden, Mithfindl had forced him into drinking the poppy medicines, had beaten him repeatedly, had dragged him under the bushes, and while under there, he had only seen Mithfindl, despite being told that it was Estel who rutted and choked him. With all his being, though, the Elf clung to the hope that the human had not been his tormentor, which is why knowing also that Estel was his tormentor was driving him further into madness.

He wanted to trust Estel. He wanted to believe Estel. He wanted Estel.

The Prince had earlier begged for the Ranger’s forgiveness. He had told the human that he knew that Mithfindl was his attacker and that it had not been the Adan. However, even though he held tight to this belief and the evidence seemed in favor of this being true, the periapt, of which he knew nothing, undermined his determination to discern his lover’s blamelessness. Each time his mind was distracted from his constant reflection upon his lover’s innocence, it returned to its involuntary acceptance that the Ranger was the perpetrator of the ills done to him and each time the Wood-Elf had to argue with himself against this supposition.

 _I have truly gone mad,_ he told himself.

“His nose bleeds again. Why could this wound not be healed?” Thranduil asked of Elrond. The Elvenking reached for bandaging on the nightstand, only to find that all the linen there was soiled already. Standing, the King tried to deter the Prince, saying, “Be careful. Stay still. I will help you to dress, Legolas, if you are so set upon it, but first let me see to this bloody nose of yours.”

But the laegel had other orders and he did not hesitate to disobey his father. With his hand out to catch himself should he falter, the Silvan Prince staggered to the end of the bed and dropped to his knees before his trunk. He opened the creaking lid. Normally, the Prince kept several different sets of clothing in this trunk and left them there for his use in the valley, being that he spent so much time in Imladris. But over the course of the last few days, many of those articles of clothing had been ruined by his constant injury and ensuing bleeding. He dug deep inside the trunk until he found the very clothes he had worn upon his last arrival here in Rivendell. They were travel stained though clean. Since he intended to travel soon, they would suit his purpose precisely, and so he set them out to wear. But first, he took his brush and ran it through his tangled hair, plaiting it swiftly into one long braid so that it would not impede him during his undertaking.

“It is the stone.” His Minyatar spoke softly, hesitantly, as though he did not wish to speak in front of the young Elf, who stood to thread his legs into his trousers and then pull them up over his hips. “Greenleaf’s will is not his own yet, Thranduil. The stone still holds his mind and has set him upon a path of which he is unaware.”

“And what path is that?” the King asked, returning to Legolas and giving the younger Silvan a consternated frown to see that he had disobeyed his request for the Prince to wait for help to be dressed. As Kalin had hours before, the Elvenking dabbed at the blood trickling from the laegel’s face as if the younger Elf was a child, which of course to Thranduil he was. “Let us just remove the stone.”

Although he gave their conversation only cursory interest, Legolas heard what his father and Minyatar were saying, and he wondered, _Either I am delusional, or they think I am taking instruction from a pebble._ Surreptitiously, Legolas picked out a knife from inside the trunk. It was a small, simple blade; one that he kept very sharp. Used for everyday needs, like skinning game, cutting thread, and peeling fruit, the knife was not the best weapon for what he intended, but he could not just take his long knife or his bow and arrow from their hooks upon the wall without causing suspicion. While Mithfindl had not told him how to do it, he had told him to be careful, to be thorough, and to flee once the deed was done. As he sat on the floor and pulled on his boots, largely ignored by the two elders who now argued about this stone of which they seemed strangely concerned, Legolas realized that despite his desire to be free of his hatred and fear of the Ranger, he once more blamed Estel for his current woe.

 _What am I doing? I cannot do this,_ he railed at himself. _Estel is not the one._ The Wood-Elf stuck his hand back in the trunk to hide the knife at the bottom under some old leather bracers, but his fingers would not release their hold of it. _No, I have to do this,_ Legolas determined. _I cannot suffer him to live after what he has done._

Even as his mind balked at this and refuted that Estel was his attacker, his tormentor, and that the human needed to die for his misdeeds, Legolas accepted the task given him, for he was still subjugated by the imprecated stone. Anger rose and fell inside his chest. Lust for revenge against the cruelty he had undergone leached all reason from his every thought until he felt parched by it. His desiccation would only be sated with blood. He could find peace only by completing the compelling instruction to quench that bloodlust.

 _I have to kill him._ The Wood-Elf closed his eyes, saying to himself, _I cannot. I love Estel._ Even as he thought this, the Prince was ensconcing the knife within his sleeve once more.

There was no forethought, no planning. Mithfindl had given Legolas several different instructions, each one conditional upon the Wood-Elf living to see them completed, which thanks to Elrond now had been assured. The first of these was that the moment he was able, the moment that he could move and had the opportunity, Legolas was to do what Mithfindl had not had the chance to do. He was to kill Estel.

His father and Elrond were standing together at the fireless hearth in heated argument over a stone, which only caused the laegel to doubt his hearing and sanity once again in wonderment as to why they found a rock of such interest. He turned his attention away from them, however, for he could hear the footsteps of his human lover as he approached the laegel’s room.

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So that they could greet their friend, he let his brothers and the sentry within the room first, although his eagerness to see his lover was paramount on his mind. The worry that he’d felt over what his father wanted to tell him was secondary to his perpetual need to ascertain that the Wood-Elf was well. He had been so certain that Legolas would die that to see him now – standing at the foot of the bed, dressed, booted, and his hair braided, the bruises upon his face having faded through Elven magic – made the Ranger’s breath quicken in elation.

_We can surely remove the periapt now. His body is better, now we must try to heal his mind and hope that his faer follows suit._

Legolas’ eyes were upon the human from the moment that Aragorn walked within the chamber. Even though the twins were hugging the Wood-Elf whom they thought of as a brother, even though Kalin was speaking to his charge, tears in his eyes as he expressed his gladness to see his Prince up and about, the laegel never once removed his gaze from the Ranger. The laegel endured their affection with grace and returned it with pleasure, it seemed. Of course, by Legolas’ reckoning, unlike the human they had no part in the Prince’s torment. _He must wonder whether he can trust me or not._ He had used the periapt in the predawn hours of that morning to force the laegel into trusting and believing him and the Elf had told the Ranger that he thought Mithfindl to be the one who attacked him in the garden, but the Adan knew his lover well and he could see the vacillation in the Prince; he could see that despite his earlier accusation of Mithfindl and apology to Aragorn, Legolas would never be sure that the Ranger had not been the force behind his excruciation, not until the ensorcelled stone was detached. The Adan intended to see that it was removed forthwith.

 _This will be over. Regardless of whether we ever find Mithfindl, Legolas can be free of him and here in the valley he can heal once more. I will see to it,_ he pledged. Across the way, Thranduil was hounding Elrond for the very same – that is, to remove the periapt and free Legolas of Mithfindl’s volition.

Legolas was deathly quiet and still. To Estel, the Prince looked like one of the cats from the stables. He seemed on edge, on the balls of his feet, ready to spring, just like one of the stable cats preparing to pounce upon a mouse. The twins and sentry noted this strange behavior as well and turned to Elrond for explanation as to the laegel’s caginess and latent ferocity.

“Estel,” his Ada called out fervently. So perturbed did the Peredhel sound that he silenced Thranduil’s rambling argument for removing the stone. “Come here and leave Legolas be,” he demanded warily of the human.

The twins stepped away from the Prince and went to their father with little hesitation, for although he had called for the Ranger and not them, they went to their father to ease whatever burden they could sense he carried. Kalin stayed by Legolas’ side but did take a step closer to Estel, as if to come between the two.

The Prince saw none of this. He watched only Estel. Aragorn was accustomed to the incisive and bottomless stares of the Elves, for he had been around them his whole relatively short life. He was even more accustomed to Legolas’ penetrative blue eyes since he had spent many hours looking into them. He knew every variation of color inside them, the many hues that made their vibrant cobalt shade, the peculiar golden specks along the outer edge of the irises that made them sparkle in the low light of a fire. He knew how they sometimes turned a prurient purple when the laegel was aroused. He knew how they glazed over when the Elf slipped into slumber and how they brightened when the Elf woke from it.

Even when the Elf had been taken over by the opinions of the scar upon his thigh, when he’d been benumbed and combative, the Wood-Elf had never looked at the Ranger with such a dead and cold stare. He had often seemed vacant and confused, but there was no confusion now, no vacancy. He had seen his Greenleaf look this way before and it was usually ere he stepped into a throng of Orcs to slaughter the fell beasts. But now, observing his lover and caught in the Elf’s piercing contemplation, Estel realized that Legolas’ eyes were the cold and dank color of the deepest, shadiest waters in the river. There was little else but hatred inside them.

This realization should have been his warning.

“Estel,” his father hissed and came a step closer to where the Prince and Ranger stood at the end of the bed, where they looked only at each other. _How odd,_ he thought of his father. _Why do they shun Greenleaf? What has Ada or Thranduil done to anger him so greatly?_ The Peredhel was advancing on them slowly, as if the laegel might spook and run away. But it was to the human that he soothed, “Come here, Estel.”

The human meant to comply; he truly did. But then, Legolas held his hand out to the Ranger. Estel forgot all else except that his Greenleaf wanted him. Instinctively and with a brilliant smile of happiness in thinking the Silvan desired his touch, Aragorn reached out for the Wood-Elf, taking Legolas’ strangely cold hand in his warm one.

In his peripheral vision, he saw his twin brothers and Thranduil watching this interaction with utmost perplexity, for none of them yet understood what Elrond did. He saw his Ada hasten towards the Silvan and Adan even as Elrond shouted to the sentry, “Kalin, grab your Prince.”

But Kalin, no more aware of what was occurring than any save Elrond, hesitated in befuddlement, and Elrond, needing to get around the bed to reach the Ranger and laegel, was a moment too late to stop the Wood-Elf. By his hold of Estel’s hand, Legolas wrenched the human to him. From inside his sleeve, the Silvan pulled a short knife, the glinting blade just a shiny flash to the human before with the forceful jerk of his hold of the Ranger and the mighty thrust of his knife-wielding hand, the laegel had the blade embedded within the human’s belly.


	48. Chapter 48

In shock, the stunned human could feel the searing pain of the knife inside his belly but his mind refused to believe it, such that although normally he might have taken measures to stop the Elf or at least keep himself from further injury, instead he only stood there, his hand still in Legolas’ grip, the pleased smile slow to fade upon his face. The Prince made to draw the knife upwards, to gut the human with the short blade, but instinctively, Estel took a step backwards away from the laegel and felt the short knife’s equally agonizing exit from his stomach. However, for each rapid step back he took, the Wood-Elf took one closer, until the Ranger was flush to the wall behind him and the Prince was just as close as before.

All this took only a second. Kalin, who was closest to the two, had not seen the knife and did not realize what was occurring. In fact, he was looking at Elrond, who was being held back by his two sons in their effort to keep him from harm by keeping him away from the Prince. They would try to stop the laegel themselves before they allowed their Ada to become hurt trying to do so, and so they tried to restrain Elrond even as they hurried closer. The Prince’s blade was still outthrust, seeking to rend the human’s flesh evermore. Legolas moved his grip to the tunic over the human’s chest to press him into the wall such that the Ranger could not escape; Legolas still had his gaze upon the man’s face when he swung his arm back and then started forward to ram the blade back inside the human’s belly. Again, only a moment had passed in which all this happened.

“Greenleaf,” Estel whispered. The blade stopped short of Aragorn’s flesh. He could feel its point pressing against the cloth of his tunic. He stood there submissively, not moving lest he rouse the laegel into resuming his violence. “Greenleaf,” he whispered again when he saw that Legolas was listening. The deadened look of the Elf’s face was reanimating before him – his lover frowned, his anger faltered, and then the young Silvan Elf truly looked at the Ranger.

“I cannot stop it,” Legolas told Estel in little more than a sigh. Against the Ranger’s belly, the knife’s point was quivering in his tunic’s cloth. “You should have let me die. I do not want this, but I cannot stop it.”

Behind the Wood-Elf Prince, Elladan and Elrohir had been unable to contain their determined father from trying to keep his Silvan son from murdering his human son, but they followed directly behind him, at ready to keep their father safe should Legolas’ uncalled for wrath target him, as well.

“Greenleaf,” the Peredhel comfortingly told the Prince. He now stood beside Legolas, who did not react to the elder’s sudden presence. He looked only at Estel, who likewise could not seem to remove his regard from his lover’s mostly blank stare. “Whatever reason you feel you have to kill Estel, it is not your own.”

Confusion and sorrow were replacing the cold and deadly wrath on the Prince’s face. Although his hand did not move from its close proximity to the human’s belly, and thus the knife was still prepared to finish its task, Legolas’ whole body seemed to relax, his head lowering until he looked up at Estel only through the fringe of his lashes. “You should have let me die. I cannot control this and I do not know why, unless it is madness.”

The Ranger had not yet caught on to what had caused the Wood-Elf to react this way. His first thought was that the Prince still believed that Estel had been the one to torture and ravish him, although he did not discount that the laegel could be reacting as Erestor had warned them that he might. Erestor had told them that sometimes the animals on which the periapts were used would become violent towards the masters who had given them instruction. But the councilor had said that this occurred when the periapt was removed and they had yet to remove the stone from the Prince.

In a movement too quick for the Ranger to notice, Elrond’s hand snatched out from his side to grab the Wood-Elf Prince’s wrist. Even to this, the laegel did not react, but nor could Elrond pull the ensorcelled younger Elf’s hand away. Estel soon had a twin on either side of him. No one wanted to see Legolas hurt but no one was willing to stand by while he murdered Estel in cold blood.

Legolas told them, “I have to kill him. I cannot stop.”

“I know, Greenleaf. I know.” Elrond’s grip had not loosened and although the human could tell that his father was prepared to yank the Elf’s arm, he had ceased trying to pull Legolas’ wrist in fear that the Prince might prove stronger should his hand be forced. Elladan was trying to slide in between Legolas and Elrond so that if the Prince decided to swing his arm out to attack the Peredhel, he would cut Elladan instead, while Elrohir had his hand upon the arm that the Silvan was using to press Estel against the wall. They would have insinuated themselves between Legolas and Estel if they could have, but there was no room, what with the knife in the scant space betwixt man and laegel.

Elrond persisted, sounding very much as if he were speaking to one of his unwilling patients who needed coaxing into allowing the Peredhel’s treatment, “You said Mithfindl attacked you in the garden. You told us that you believed Mithfindl was the one who hurt you, Greenleaf,” the healer said, saying the Prince’s common nickname repeatedly. Few besides Elrond and his sons ever called Legolas by that name, so the Peredhel hoped that it reminded the laegel that he was amongst friends. “Greenleaf,” he said yet again, “Mithfindl has planted inside your mind this desire to kill Estel. Please, Greenleaf. Step away and let me explain to you what has happened.”

 _Mithfindl didn’t need to stick around to see that his revenge was complete. He set Legolas upon this task,_ the human realized. With sickened awe, the Ranger now understood that the Wood-Elf was not fighting against the fear or revulsion he felt for Estel in thinking that the human was his tormentor, but the Elf was fighting against the absolute sway of the periapt. Legolas had so far had no success rebelling against the imprecated stone’s demands or in denying its suasive hold over his thoughts. _He means to kill me,_ the Ranger told himself, but seeing the confusion and knowing that it was only through sheer will that the Elf had not already slammed the blade home inside the human’s belly, he had to admit, _but he fights it. Greenleaf fights it._

“No,” Legolas told them. A tear had slipped from one of the Elf’s cobalt blue eyes. No longer did the Wood-Elf seem angry and his grip loosened upon the human’s shirt, allowing Aragorn to breathe in deeply once more. Kalin was standing now behind his Prince, his hands out at ready to grab the laegel and pull him away from the Ranger and the Noldor. “Kill me,” Legolas implored those around him in a voice broken with the agony and despair of acting beyond his control, of hurting his human lover though he wanted to cease. “I cannot stop it. Do not let me kill him. Kill me before I hurt him.”

“I would rather you kill me,” he told the Elf Prince, “than to see you die or harmed in any way, meleth nin.”

Although he had spoken without thinking, the Ranger’s simple, unconditional love dissolved the last of the Prince’s resistance to the physical impediment of those surrounding him; more importantly, somehow Estel’s words had temporarily hewn the periapt’s grasp on the laegel’s volition. His face crumpled, the single tear he had shed was followed by a second and then a third from the other of the Elf’s mournful eyes, which were now filled with grief and regret instead of lust for remuneration and misplaced revenge.

Everything seemed to happen at once, then. At feeling Legolas’ hand begin to drop away from where he held the knife to Aragorn’s belly, Elrond yanked the hand to him and away from Estel, only to find that Elladan soon had his own hand upon Legolas’ arm. Simultaneously, the elder twin twisted the Prince’s forearm so that the blade was away from the human while he also pushed his father out of the way of danger, though the laegel no longer seemed dangerous to Aragorn. Elrond stopped only to glare in annoyance at his eldest son’s well-meant but abrupt action before he stepped between the laegel and the Ranger to keep Legolas from attacking Estel again. Kalin grabbed hold of his Prince by wrapping one arm around Legolas’ neck to subdue him, while his other arm he looped around the younger Elf’s waist to drag his Prince back and away from the Noldor. Having not yet let go of the human, Legolas lugged Aragorn forward by his hold of Estel’s tunic until the surprised Wood-Elf released him. Elladan, who still clutched the arm that the Prince held his knife with, pushed Estel back and thus farther away from the blade. He stumbled into the arms of Elrohir, who held him upright when the pain from twisting his stomach muscles nearly drove him to his knees.

One moment, Legolas was pliant and allowing himself to be detained, but in the next, Legolas was growling like an animal, his rage transforming his face into a wolfish sneer that the Ranger had never seen upon the Elf’s visage before. Elrond was reaching out to the Ranger’s belly, while Elrohir had his human brother by the waist to keep him from falling, but Aragorn paid them little mind for he wanted instead to watch Legolas. Elladan’s forceful twisting of Legolas’ arm caused the knife to clatter to the ground, which is when Estel remembered that he’d been wounded. So intent had he been on making sure that Legolas was not damaged during their restraint of him that Aragorn had not thought twice about the pain lancing through his belly. The blood upon the blade was Estel’s; he suddenly understood the true import of what had happened.

_Greenleaf has stabbed me._

“I am fine,” he told Elrohir and his father automatically, but of course, neither would take his word for it and Elrond halted the human’s attempts to walk away, to get to Legolas.

In what sounded to be the wordless growls of a wild and irate animal, Legolas was shrieking in rage as he fought against Elladan and Kalin’s hold of him. Aragorn tried again to push past his father and brother to reach the Wood-Elf, to do what he could to aid the others so that Legolas’ injuries would not be worsened by their inability to pacify the Elf, but his Ada held tight to his shoulders and then fell to his knees before him, his hands lifting the Ranger’s tunic to expose his belly.

“Be careful with him,” he tried to tell his brother and the Silvan sentry, but his words could not be heard over the screams of the Prince.

The Elf-King was still standing in the corner, his mouth slightly agape in bafflement; he had been watching this altercation with a strange impassivity that made Estel wonder if the King had rather Legolas managed to kill the Ranger. The Elvenking vacantly stared at the shrieking Silvan Prince until Elrond shouted over his shoulder to him, “Thranduil, try to calm him!”

Shaken from his stupor, the King nodded his head and went to Legolas. Kalin now had his arms over the younger Silvan’s arms in a bear hug, while Elladan was trying to hold Legolas’ thrashing lower limbs. The ephemeral peace that Estel’s declaration had produced was now gone. The Prince was fighting against his two friends as if fighting for his life, as if they were trying to kill him, but it wasn’t until Aragorn looked again at the laegel’s face and into his once more vacuously dead gaze that he realized, _He fights to get free to finish what he has started. He fights to be free to kill me._ The thought sent a shiver through his body that Elrond must have noticed, for he told Elrohir, who still stood behind the Ranger with his hands upon the human’s back as if to keep him upright, “Let us move him to the couch.”

The laegel’s screeching and commotion had brought Galendil from across the hall. His head bandaged and too injured to be of help, the sentry stood in the doorway in unsettled indecision as to what to do. Thranduil had his hands upon his son’s face to force him to look at him instead of at the Ranger. The Prince’s shouts had alerted Ninan, who had been on the floor above them to keep watch. Aragorn startled in surprise when through the open balcony doors he saw as the sentry dropped deftly from the terrace of Elrond’s study and onto Legolas’ veranda. At once, the King’s head sentinel was within the room, his eyes flitting from Elf to Elf, to Estel, and finally back to his Prince and King, to assess what was occurring and where he could be of use. Without asking, Ninan went to help Elladan and Kalin try to restrain the Prince. With the maleficent instruction given to him granting him a desperate strength, Legolas bucked and kicked and almost got free until Ninan grabbed hold of the Prince’s flailing arms, which had been trying to claw at Kalin’s face to force his release. Thranduil was talking to his progeny quietly, but Aragorn could not discern his words over Legolas’ enraged shrieking. 

 _They will hurt him,_ he protested and yet again thought to help his lover, but his lover was fighting to be free in his effort to kill him and he would likely foment Legolas’ violence should he draw near to the laegel. And so, the Ranger let Elrohir compel him into sitting on the laegel’s couch. Elrohir tried to lower Estel gently to the cushion but the Ranger sat himself quickly down so that he could twist around the twin blocking his view of what was happening across the room. Aloud, he told Elrohir and his father, both of whom were now surrounding him to look at the damage done to him, “Do not let them hurt him.”

His request went unheeded. In the end, Ninan’s added presence was not required, nor did Elladan or Kalin have much luck in their efforts to quell the laegel. Having had enough of his screeching, clambering progeny, Thranduil did what he did best. Estel returned his attention to the Elves across the room just in time to see the Elvenking’s fist barreling through the air before it struck Legolas’ temple. At once, the Prince’s body became slack, his endless and crazed shouting silenced, and despite the violence with which the King had quieted his son, all in the room were thankful. Unable to keep his awkward hold of the Prince, Kalin let his charge’s deadweight slither down his own body and onto the floor, though he and the others did their best to keep Legolas from being hurt as he fell. Ninan, Elladan, and Thranduil stood over the unconscious Prince in dumbfounded silence, while Kalin was crouched down beside the laegel to hold Legolas’ head from the floor.

“Thank Ilúvatar,” his Ada was whispering to himself, although now that the room was hushed once again, the Ranger quite clearly heard his father’s words. Elrond looked up to the human he had taken as one of his own since the man was but a toddler, the relief evident on his face to know that he would not be losing his mortal son today. “It is barely a wound at all,” the Peredhel teased lightly in his relief though it sobered when he told the Ranger, “We should be thankful that Legolas did not truly desire to kill you.”

“He could have fooled me,” the Ranger told his father.

The human looked down to see for himself the injury that his lover had caused him. Aragorn had acted quickly enough before the Wood-Elf could ram the blade to the hilt inside him and had also kept the Wood-Elf from moving or twisting it; the short blade had entered the muscle just to the right of the human’s belly button and gone no more than a third his index finger’s length inside his flesh. It had come nowhere close to his viscera; although it bled steadily and would need to be cleaned and stitched, the injury was not fatal and would barely cause a scar.

“He fought the urge,” his father was telling him. The Peredhel stood to grab linen bandaging from off the mantel, saying all the while, “Our Greenleaf has done just now what he has been unable to do the whole time the periapt has been upon him – when faced with Mithfindl’s demand to kill you, somehow he fought against it.”

Across the room, Kalin and Elladan were picking the once more insentient Prince from the floor and placing him back onto the bed, with Ninan shifting the blanket and pillows so that they could situate the young Elf comfortably. In the doorway, Galendil still stood in stoic confusion. Estel opened his mouth to ask for more information and to inquire as to what they could do for the Elf now, but the Elf-King beat him to it.

“Morgoth’s arse,” Thranduil swore loudly as he joined Elrond by where the Ranger sat. “What in Udûn just happened?”

“In a moment,” the Peredhel deflected with a sigh. “First let me see to the Prince to make certain that he is unconscious.” Elrond knelt before Aragorn again with the linen in hand. He held it to the seeping wound upon the human’s belly and then took his son’s hand to press upon the bandaging over the wound in silent instruction. Once the Ranger was compressing the cloth to his belly to stem the flow of blood, Elrond crossed the room to hover over Legolas, who was being fretted over by his sentries and the twins.

The Elvenking was now standing before Estel, his arms over his wide chest. “Will you be fine?”

It was the first time that Estel could remember the King addressing him without contempt or rancor, without sarcasm or some underlying motive. Indeed, Thranduil seemed to have gained some newfound respect for the human, although what Estel had done to incite it he did not know. “I will be fine, yes. The blade barely punctured the flesh. It is as Ada said – somewhere inside the mess that Mithfindl has made of Greenleaf’s mind, Legolas had enough reasoning to fight against the periapt. I am lucky that he did.”

“Not reasoning,” the Elf-King corrected as he moved to sit on the couch beside Estel. “Not reasoning. Love stayed Legolas’ hand. My son is one of the most adept warriors in all of Eryn Galen. Had he wanted you dead, none of us would have been able to stop him.” Thranduil sat right beside the human, which made Aragorn somewhat uncomfortable. There was plenty of room for the distracted King to sit without being so close. “These years that Legolas has come to Imladris to spend time in your presence or left his home to wander the woods with you, I have feared that somehow you would be the death of him.”

Taking this locution as a reprimand, Estel shifted in his seat to face the King, despite that it agitated his wounded stomach to do so. He did not want to listen to Thranduil repeat his many complaints about how the Ranger had sullied his son, but if Thranduil wished to speak, the human would listen respectfully if the King remained rational. The sunlight from outside was brightest in this part of the room, for the couch sat against the wall perpendicular to the balcony doors, and in this illumination, the Elf-King looked haggard and old, though it was his demeanor and not his eternal face that caused this.

“But he fashions his own destruction,” the King went on to say. He did not look at Estel but at the reddening bandage over the human’s muscled belly.

“Greenleaf will not die. We can remove the periapt. He will be well. He was nearly well before Mithfindl began this vile plan of his; if it takes me until my last breath, Legolas will be whole again,” he promised, although his words were for the Prince and not in appeasement of the King.

The injury upon his belly was a stinging nuisance; right now, Estel would much rather be with the others in helping Greenleaf but he knew that they would send him back to the couch should he try. Across the room, Elrond was ordering Kalin and Ninan as to how to keep watch over Legolas, for should he waken, he might become violent again. They would not bind the Prince to the bed, not after all the torment he had endured whilst tied; not after he had nearly released his faer from rhaw the last time he had been bound with good intentions. Elrond sent Elladan to the apothecary and Elrohir to fetch more linen and gut for his needle so that he could stitch Aragorn’s stomach. The twins fled the room with as much haste as possible. The Ranger knew that his brothers wanted to be back as quick as they could in case Legolas became violent again. They loved their Silvan friend, but they would not allow the Prince to hurt their father or their human brother again.

Likely, the remaining Elves in the room – Kalin, Ninan, and Elrond, with Galendil having unwillingly gone back to Estel’s room across the hall by Elrond’s admonition – could all hear what Thranduil was saying to Estel but they went about their business and gave the Sindarin King and human Ranger some privacy.

“My son,” Thranduil began but waited until Estel had once more turned to look at him before he continued, “my son tried to kill you, but you would have let Legolas slay you rather than hurt him in defending yourself.”

It was not a question but the Ranger answered nonetheless. “You say he is a brutal and adroit warrior, which is true, but Legolas is also the kindest and warmest person I have ever met. He hates nothing but evil and has clemency in his heart that surpasses that odium, so that even being a stalwart guardian of your realm, he has never let those actions overwhelm his love for the goodness in the forest, in his kith, or even in strangers.”

The Ranger took a deep breath. The blood from his wound had soaked through the bandaging and was now painting his hand with his warm essence. Surprisingly, Thranduil was listening to him, when normally the King would be forming arguments and insults until next he could speak. Seeing that Thranduil truly wanted to hear what the human said, Estel told his lover’s father, “Legolas is the clear light of the stars whilst I am only standing in a shadow cast by being near his brilliance. He is immortal, or at least he should be, while I will die. I would do anything for Greenleaf to keep him safe, to make him happy, and to see that his light and faer never fade.”

Realizing what he’d said, that he had given the King the opening that he needed to argue against the Prince and Ranger’s love, Estel thought, _Now he will tell me that if I truly love Legolas to leave him be. He will tell me that this is all my fault. That I will be the cause for Legolas’ death when I die if he does not die soon from grief. Perhaps he is right._ Thranduil laid a hand upon Estel’s shoulder. At first, out of old habit, he expected the King to start shouting invectives or try to hit him out of anger. Any sudden movements made by the King of Mirkwood put the human on edge, he was not afraid to admit.

“I told Legolas, when I arrived, that I would not fight him over you. I told him that you are not worth it, that I would not have you come between us,” the King told him. Estel saw that Elrond was listening, for his father’s shoulders straightened in umbrage. To have the King now slur his wounded human son was bordering on about as much as Elrond would be willing to permit. But then, Thranduil went on, “But I fear that instead, my son is not worth you.”

He might have taken that as a compliment, but the human assumed that he knew better, and that Thranduil was only slighting Legolas, instead. “You say that only because you think him worthless. You give up on Legolas already, just because you now see what the periapt is capable of making him do. Always you give up on him. Always you insist that what he does is never to your liking or to your standards.” Estel pulled his shoulder out from under the King’s hand and then stood, for he was unable to be near the King right now, lest he begin to thrash Thranduil for his casual affronts to Legolas. He ambled to the doorway to the veranda, where he leant against the doorframe to face the King. Although he saw his father frown at him in warning, the Ranger could not help but to carry on, “Truth be told, King Thranduil, neither of us deserves Legolas, for both of us have done nothing but bring him sorrow and agony, it seems.”

“Quiet, Estel. Greenleaf’s presence and his love are gifts he gives to whom he chooses,” Elrond reprimanded sharply. The Peredhel walked to where the Ranger had moved to the door, to be away from Thranduil. He placed a hand upon the human’s arm, softening his irritated rebuke.

“No,” the Elvenking said with a mirthless laugh. “Estel speaks truthfully,” he told Elrond, using the Ranger’s name for the first time that Aragorn could recall – at least in his presence. To hear the Elf-King use his name surprised the Ranger into silence, for he had been prepared to argue against his father. “You have given your human son the same sagacity as your Elven sons, I see, and the same sharp tongue. But I do not say that he does not deserve you because he is worthless,” Thranduil explained to Estel. “I say it because I do not understand why you would still devote your short life to him when his mind is daft. His body may mend but it is no longer pure. His faer is tainted with grief. Why would you not seek a lover who will not be a burden to you? If it is guilt or pity that binds you to him, then be free of it.”

“I love him.” His Greenleaf had just stabbed him and it seemed that the King was hoping that this would drive the human away. _What prompts this?_ the Ranger asked himself. “I will never give up on Legolas.”

For several moments, Thranduil stared at the human, who returned the King’s contemplation with just as much fervency and vigor. He did not know what Thranduil wanted, why he spoke as he did, or what he intended. At last, the Elf-King nodded to himself but said to the Ranger, “Good. If you will not forsake him after his stabbing you, after he has shown himself to be fey and after he has endured this trauma, then perhaps you will not tire of him and leave him to wither and die, as I feared you would. If my son chooses a male mortal as his mate, so be it. He must do as he will to find happiness.”

He couldn’t tell if Thranduil had just offered his acceptance of his and the Prince’s companionship or if the Elvenking was subtly insulting him, but Estel was too drawn and tired to worry over it. He let his father push him into sitting in the wooden chair next to Legolas’ bed. Elrond tugged at the linen in the Ranger’s hand, which he then let go of so that his father could inspect the stab wound he’d earned this day.

“My son is as stubborn as a mule,” the Peredhel told Thranduil with an affectionate smile for Estel. “You need not fear that Estel will abandon Legolas, or treat him ill. Has he not been the one to defend Greenleaf, to take care of him, and to bring him back from sorrow?”

“He has. He has even tried to defend him against me, when my anger overwhelmed my better sense.” Thranduil stood from the couch so that he could be near to the Wood-Elf of whom they spoke. Gently, the King pushed Ninan from the way so that he could sit near the Prince’s upper half, so that he could be near to Legolas’ face should he waken. With gentle, light sweeps of his fingers over the laegel’s face, Thranduil caressed his insentient progeny as he spoke, “I have been blind to the Elf that my son has grown into, but you have seen it, Elrond, and your sons have seen it. I am sorry that it has taken me so long to realize what a fine Elf he has turned out to be. I wish I had made the effort to befriend him and not just rule him.”

Thranduil spoke nostalgically, as if he would never get the chance to tell Legolas what he now said to them, as if the Prince would die. It was then that the Adan realized, _He doesn’t think Legolas will die – he thinks that Legolas will never be sane or well. He thinks that his son will be daft._

“Greenleaf will live,” the Ranger promised again, but not willing to leave it at that, he made his oath now to the King, telling Thranduil, “He will be well again. I promise you. I will do everything in my power to see it happen.”

Not looking towards the Ranger, for the King had begun to weep openly, though he was smiling devotedly at Legolas, Thranduil agreed, “I believe you, Estel. Whatever years you have left in your Adan life, if you spend them with my son, then I know he will always be cared for and loved, that he will be well.”

Elrond was pushing another wad of fresh linen to the Ranger’s belly; his Ada looked directly at Estel to give him a wide, joyous smile that the Ranger only frowned at in return, for he did not understand at first. But then, from his Ada’s sudden cheer, the human concluded, _The twins warned me months ago that Thranduil would never accept me into his family, that he would never accept that Greenleaf loves me. But it seems that he just has. Somehow, by being willing to let Legolas kill me rather than kill Legolas, I have finally proven to Thranduil that I love his son._

Kalin and Ninan had been listening to this with unabashed interest. They had likely never heard their King speak of their Prince with love and admiration, nor had they ever heard their King speak to Estel with any modicum of respect. The Prince’s sentry spoke up, saying, “Now that his rhaw is almost healed, can we not remove the periapt? Surely that will be the quickest way to aid him?”

All in the room now turned to Elrond again. _I had forgotten, but Thranduil and I were supposed to be leaving Legolas to the twins and Kalin’s care so that we could speak to Ada alone._

“This is the path of which you spoke?” the Elvenking asked Elrond. Aragorn had not been present for their earlier conversation so did not know what Thranduil meant. “Mithfindl instructed him to kill Estel and then what, Elrond? What else has he implanted in Legolas’ mind?”

Elrond stood from where he was kneeling before Estel, having done what he could for the Ranger’s wound until he had his needle and gut. Like Aragorn’s hands, the Peredhel’s hands were now covered in the human’s red essence, as well, although the Imladrian did not seem to notice; in fact, Elrond swept an errant strand of hair out of his face and thereby drew a line upon his forehead, the ink of which was Estel’s blood. “We need to speak of Greenleaf and decide what ought to be done, and I will explain all that I know, but first, let us wait until the twins return and I have sewn Estel’s belly.”

The normally impatient King nodded in tolerant acquiescence. Kalin and Ninan were settled upon the Prince’s bed, ever watchful in case Legolas should awaken and renew his violent ambition, and Estel sat with his hand pressed to his bloody belly, his father observing all of them in his continual, fretful worry.

 _I promised you that this would be over soon,_ he told the laegel. _Today, Legolas. We will remove the periapt today._

The Elf had asked for death. Earlier, when Legolas had been only half-conscious and his body seemingly broken beyond repair, the young Elf had been repeating Estel’s name. _He said that he could not die; while we thought he meant that he did not want to die, Legolas literally meant that he was unable to die._ _He thought that somehow we kept him from dying, which must mean that he tried to cleave his faer from rhaw. He wished to die and the periapt kept him from doing so. He begged me to help him,_ the Ranger contemplated as he watched his lover’s face twitch as his awareness slowly returned to him. _Legolas must have been begging me to kill him, to relieve him of his pain._ But the Elf had also begged them to kill him while he held the knife to Estel’s belly, which might mean that Legolas wanted death before vilya had repaired him because he knew that once he was well enough he would try to take Estel’s life.

 _Mithfindl instructed Legolas not to die and then instructed him to kill me the first chance he had._ He asked himself what Thranduil had asked Elrond before, _What other instructions has he given Legolas?_ The human only hoped that the periapt was removed before they had the chance to find out.


	49. Chapter 49

His father had just finished the last stitch of gut into his skin when Thranduil, who had done well thus far in maintaining his patience, finally could stand it no longer. The Elf-King asked Elrond, “Tell me. What is that you learnt while using vilya upon my son?”

The King still sat on the bed near to the laegel’s head, while Ninan sat on the same side though at Legolas’ feet, with Kalin on the side opposite near the middle of the younger Elf’s body. Together, the three Elves from Eryn Galen kept close watch over Legolas. Although the Prince had yet to waken, he was not entirely still. The Silvan, Noldor, and Ranger had no knowledge of this, but being as Mithfindl had instructed Legolas not to sleep, once unconscious, the laegel’s mind had not been bound by the periapt’s sway, and so his tired and healing body had given in to slumber. His movements were the natural shifts and twitches of someone in fitful repose.

A short time ago, Estel had been forced by his father and twin brothers into reclining upon the couch, where Elrond had then practiced his art of healing, first cleaning and then sewing together the small wound to the Ranger’s belly. To distract Estel from the intermittent sting of the needle, Elladan and Elrohir had been teasing their Adan sibling about years past, when as a youth the Ranger had needed stitches to his head after trying to slide down the balustrade on the main staircase. Their mirthful story was full of embellishments, for its purpose was to both cheer Estel and hide their own worry. Seeing their human brother nearly gutted was a fierce reminder to them that the Ranger was mortal; they loved Estel as much as they loved each other, as much as they loved their sister Arwen, as much as they loved Legolas as a brother, and today was a rude warning that one day they would lose the mortal.

When it seemed that Elrond would not answer, Thranduil asked again, “Come. You said once Estel was stitched you would explain this. Hurry before Legolas awakens.”

Again, the King was saying the human’s name. _How odd it is to hear him call me anything but “the human” or “the Ranger,”_ he thought to himself with a smile. Since they had been watching their father as he made his exact interstices in Aragorn’s tanned hide, the twins were standing around Estel such that he saw them exchange a bewildered look between them at hearing Thranduil use the Adan’s name. They had not been present for Thranduil’s strange locution and sudden acceptance of the man as a worthy choice for his son’s mate, so could only ponder at the change in the King. Aragorn had been present for it but even he found it hard to believe.

The Peredhel finished wrapping bandaging around Aragorn’s torso to hold in place over his wound a folded, thick swatch of linen. Once done, he helped Estel into sitting upon the couch. The abrupt change in position made the Ranger sway a little in his seat as the blood rushed from his head; though he tried to hide this, Elrond saw and was kneeling down before the Adan again, the concern back on his face. “Are you well?”

“Fine, I am fine,” the Ranger told his father and twin brothers, who were now sitting on either side of him with their worried, identical faces fixed upon the human’s own face. _This must be how Legolas has felt these last months, what with everyone inquiring how he is but no one believing him when he said he was fine._

For once, though, Elrond did not argue. Instead, he grabbed the chair beside Legolas’ bed and moved it closer to the couch where his three sons sat. From this viewpoint, Elrond could see everyone in the room at once, which was just how he liked it. Once settled, he began, saying, “I do not know what Mithfindl instructed Legolas to do, although once I used vilya upon our Greenleaf, I did fear that he had given Legolas some final commands, and knowing how much Mithfindl has grown to hate Estel, I feared that this might be the eventuation of the periapt’s control over Greenleaf. I could feel it,” he told them in introspective quietude. None in the room was capable of imagining of what the Imladrian spoke, for none of them had access to an Elven ring of power. “I could feel its promise. I fear that Mithfindl telling Greenleaf to kill Estel is not his only command, either.”

For a few moments, they all sat in silent dread. _At least he didn’t tell Greenleaf to kill himself,_ the Ranger contemplated but then worried, _unless he told him to do so after killing me._ Suddenly, the three Elves surrounding the laegel did not seem like protection enough. His own well-being he could gamble, but he would not risk Legolas’ immortal life to the impregnated will of the imprecated stone any more than he had to do so.

“Moreover, I could feel Greenleaf’s confusion. His own will is no longer entirely subservient to the periapt,” Elrond explained after a short time. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Elrond had taken no rest and little other comfort since this all began and was feeling the strain of it, as were they all. With a gentle sigh, the Peredhel guessed, though his conclusions were eerily accurate in his saying, “I think that this time, when Mithfindl attacked the Prince, he was not as cautious as before. I think that this is why Greenleaf told us that it was Mithfindl – not because Mithfindl wanted Legolas to know he attacked him. Mithfindl must not have blindfolded him, he must not have hid his own presence, or he was careless in doing so, else our Greenleaf would never have remembered that Mithfindl was there at all.” Elrond shifted in his chair so that he could better view the Wood-Elf over whom they spoke. With fatherly devotion, the Peredhel watched the laegel when Legolas groaned in his sleep.

“Why we do not just remove it right now,” Aragorn suggested. He tried to get comfortable where he was seated between his brothers. Space was tight on the short couch for two stoutly muscled Noldor and one equally broad shouldered Adan and he ended up elbowing Elrohir in the side while trying to slide into sitting up straighter, earning a grunt and a glower from Elrohir. “Greenleaf’s body is better. If Erestor is right, and truly his knowledge is the best we have since the stones have never been used upon anything but beasts, then once it is removed, Legolas will forget what he has been told, even if he may not forget what has happened.”

“I do not understand why he still lives.” Thranduil returned his attention to Legolas. “Why did he beg for death? He could die if he desires.”

The Ranger already had his own suppositions about this. He told them, “Because Mithfindl would not let him. If he wanted Legolas to kill me, then he likely also told Legolas that he could not die. The stone keeps his faer and rhaw together, even when Greenleaf would choose to free them.”

The Elf-King turned his full gaze upon the Ranger. Again, Estel was surprised that the King looked at him without hatred and felt that he would probably continue to the end of his days to be surprised every time Thranduil did so, so odd was it after these many years of being the recipient of the King’s odium. “So then if the stone is what keeps him alive, once removed, his grief will overwhelm him. My son will die still.”

“You knew this, Thranduil. I told you this before I healed him,” Elrond argued. Unable to sit still any longer, Elrond rose and began pacing at the end of the laegel’s bed, stopping at each turn to look between King and Prince. “You said that healing his rhaw would give him the choice whether to continue to fight his grief or let it take him.”

“So I did. But do not beleaguer me for lamenting that my son will die,” the Elvenking countered uncharitably as he stood from the bed, as well. “Besides, when you came to me to tell me of this stone hours ago, before Legolas was abused again, you said that this was my choice.”

The past few days had been horrific for everyone, most of all for Legolas, but it had hurt everyone in some way. For the Peredhel, having such horrific and brutal artifice and conduct in his own home, to a young Elf whom he loved as a son, and all this done by one of his own people – not by an Orc or fell beast or man – wounded Elrond more than he would ever let anyone know. Even now, having to pass the responsibility of Legolas’ care to Thranduil, who by rights was the only one who could make the choice for the Prince, was aggravating to Elrond. The Peredhel would much rather have made the decision himself for he knew that he would make it only out of love for Legolas and not out of spite or hate, as the King was wont to do when the matter in question concerned the Prince.

His irritation wavering before he finally gave in, Elrond admitted, “Yes, it is your choice. He is your son.”

All in the room had now turned to Thranduil. Like Elrond, the King seemed no longer able to be still. He rose and went to the doors to the veranda; he pulled back the shades and threw the door open to let in the summer air. It was late summer and the humidity was growing as the day wore on, though it bothered the Elves little. Uncharacteristically, or at least it seemed so to all in the room save Elrond, who had taken and given counsel with Thranduil before, the Elvenking asked the Peredhel, “What would you do, if he was your son?”

Estel gave his Elven lover a wry smile, though of course Legolas was not awake to see it. _You call my father Minyatar for good reason. My Ada will have no dilemma in telling your Ada just what to do, since you are his son in all but blood._

Indeed, the Peredhel stopped his pacing and did not hesitate before he told the King, “I would remove the stone at once, before Legolas has the chance to hurt anyone else or himself. If we wait to remove the periapt and the Prince manages to injure or kill someone, or follow some other of Mithfindl’s instructions, then it will only increase Legolas’ guilt and sorrow once it is removed. Let us remove the stone and hope that our Greenleaf has the will to live.”

 _Hurry,_ he thought at Thranduil. Legolas was slowly coming out of his deep sleep and would soon be in the lighter reverie of which Elves usually partook. Once in that light slumber, he could easily be woken by their voices. If Estel had to hear the Prince scream in murderous desire to kill him anymore, he might go mad right along with Legolas.

“And you?” At first, no one knew to whom the King spoke, for he was still looking out into the gardens below the balcony. “You are both like brothers to him, the brothers that he has never had. What would you do Elladan, Elrohir?”

In surprise, for they suddenly found their own opinion of some worth to the King when normally the Elf-King only feigned interest in what they had to say, Elladan answered for Elrohir and himself, saying, “Remove the stone. If Greenleaf is to die, let him die of his own free will.”

With a respect he had never shown the Ranger before, Thranduil came to stand before Estel and spoke to him without his usual sneer or derogation. Perhaps he did not speak to Aragorn as his equal, but Thranduil was a King, after all, while the human had forsaken that path in life, so the Adan did not take insult by it. Thranduil asked somewhat grudgingly, “You are his mate, if not by bond. He committed treason to come here to be with you. So what of you? You wish it removed, as well?”

“Yes,” he told the King. Estel lumbered to his feet. If they were about to get rid of the stone then he would be right beside Legolas when it came off him. He tried to take the seat beside the Silvan Prince that Thranduil had vacated, but Elladan thwarted him by grabbing hold of his arm and taking that seat himself. Although he knew his brother’s reason – that Legolas might become violent again with Estel that near – still the Ranger wanted to be next to his lover when the stone was removed so he did not back away from the bed. He continued in telling Thranduil, “Free him of its burden, and then we will do what we can to free him of the blame and doubt, the shame that he will still carry.”

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Legolas could hear them speaking. He knew what they said. Still, they spoke of some stone, of some periapt. Half awake and half asleep, the laegel tried to retain his slumber. In sleep, there was no confusion, no pain, no scar, no shame, and no fear. However, the conversation around him was drawing him away from sleep, seeping into his thoughts and making him wonder of what they spoke. _What stone? And why do they talk of removing it from me?_ He could recall that his Minyatar and father had spoken of a stone earlier before he had tried to gut his human lover like a fish. At the memory of stabbing the Ranger, Legolas’ heart seized.

 _I tried to kill Estel,_ the laegel ruminated. All thoughts of returning to his dreamless slumber left him. At once, he was wholly awake. No longer as injured as before, it was without trouble or much pain that he rose into sitting. His abrupt awareness surprised the Elves perched on the bed around him, even though they had each been charged with waiting for this very act so that they could be at ready to contain him. _What have I done? I tried to kill Estel,_ he repeated to himself, his eyes flying open to look for Aragorn, to see how badly he had hurt his lover.

The familiar, volcanic agony of his sorrow erupted in his chest, welling out from the center of his torso in hot waves of searing loathing and humiliation. Although they had expected him to be violent upon his awakening, Legolas was subdued by his disgrace. He grabbed at the center of his torso from where the sorrow sprang, but his arm was caught in the hands of Elladan and pulled to the mattress beside him.

“Greenleaf, be at peace,” Elladan told him. “You are safe. You are well.”

He looked to the Noldo and then past him, where Estel stood in anxious worry. He had stabbed the Adan and yet Aragorn was peering over his brother’s shoulder in worry for the Prince’s welfare. At once, the Wood-Elf closed his eyes tightly. The mere sight of the Adan was enraging him. _I have to kill him,_ the laegel thought, his sorrow dwindling at the reminder of his purpose. More hands were upon him, were pushing him back into lying on the bed. He did not open his eyes to see who it was that held him but they immediately kept him from bounding from the bed and at the Ranger. _I have to kill Estel. I will find no peace until he is dead._

“Legolas?” he heard and knew that it was his father who said his name.

 _I will not hurt him again,_ he warned himself as he tried to redirect his violent intent towards himself. Mithfindl had managed to subjugate Legolas in all ways but this one – the Prince found strength to buck the hold of the periapt only through his love for Estel. _I will cut my own throat before I cut Estel again._

Every Elf in the room could sense the laegel’s renewed desire to die, to free his faer from rhaw, a craving that was no mere velleity, but the quickening of a new purpose rivaled only by his instruction to slaughter Estel. Only the periapt kept him from cleaving faer from rhaw to ensure that the Ranger would remain unharmed, since he could not seem to control himself, so lost was he in his perceived lunacy. If he opened his eyes again, if he saw the human whom he loved more than himself, the Prince would be unable to keep from struggling to kill Estel and he might kill whoever barred his way. Those had been his instructions – they were not the total of what he’d been compelled to do in those last moments with Mithfindl, but for now, he could not continue in Mithfindl’s final enthrallment of his mind until first Estel was dead.

“If you will not kill me to keep me from killing Estel, then tie me,” he whispered to them fervently and did not yet fight against their hold upon him, although it took all of his concentration to keep from doing so. “Tie me,” he said again, this time more loudly. Rage was quickly replacing misery. If they did not act soon, Legolas would be unable to control himself. Right now, just keeping his eyes closed was a feat of strength, because they longed to search out the human to begin his destruction. “Tie me,” he shouted, the muscles of his arms and legs now tense as he fought the impulse to pull free.

“We will not tie you,” Elrond promised but Legolas was too far gone in his rage to take note.

His eyes flew open and landed unerringly upon the Ranger. He would strangle Estel with his bare hands. He would rip his throat out with his teeth. As he lost himself to the consuming wrath that had been engendered into the deepest reaches of his mind, Legolas stopped begging them to kill him or to tie him. He no longer thought. He had become a blade and the imprecated periapt the grip by which Mithfindl’s hand would kill the Ranger.

“What choice do we have? Tie him before he hurts himself,” his father was arguing. Elrohir had pushed Estel away from the Prince to sit upon the couch nearby, although he looked as if he would rather be in the thick of their efforts to aid the laegel.

“But the last time we tied him,” Kalin interjected, “we nearly lost him to grief.” His sentry had hold of his legs, though Legolas had yet to try to move from the bed.

“The periapt will keep him alive for now.” The object of his intense hatred, his overwhelming lust for remuneration, was telling them to tie him, agreeing with his father to bind him to the bed. The fear that this brought was not ameliorated by his knowledge that it had been his idea for them to do so. “Once it is removed we will untie him at once.”

Once before the human had bound him to force Legolas into accepting the debasement that Estel desired from him. Already the Prince had been tied by humans who had sought to destroy him with the pleasure they took from his unwilling body. _No,_ the laegel argued with himself, the incessant quarrel against Estel’s guilt not halting his desire to be free to kill the human, but at least reigning in his violence enough that he did not begin to struggle and thus chance harming Kalin, Ninan, and Elladan while they held him down to the mattress. _No, it was not Estel. Minyatar says that Mithfindl has done this, that he has caused me to want to kill Estel._

Enough of his own reasoning had returned that he found his voice useful again for more than just the wild keens of a trapped animal. He pled with them once more, “Please. Tie me, lock me away, or kill me. Do not let me hurt Estel.”

“Then let us do it,” his Minyatar agreed with a tired sigh.

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They made quick work of binding Legolas to the bed. They had torn strips from one of the twin’s sheets and done much as Kalin and Ninan had done in strapping their Prince to the underpinning of the mattress. Legolas strained against the strips of cloth but did not struggle overly much. The Prince was not free of Mithfindl’s demand to kill Estel, that much was clear, but he was fighting against it. With his eyes closed tight and his muscles taut, the laegel appeared as he had earlier, when he had been prepared to pounce upon the human to open his belly with his blade. However, unlike before, the laegel did not scream and shout, nor did he make the same animalistic wails of frustration for want of killing the Adan.

Aragorn longed to be at the laegel’s bedside, to reach out to touch his lover, to soothe him. Yet, the feeble hold that the Wood-Elf held over his own actions might be broken should he draw near again and he did not want Legolas to hurt himself by his efforts in struggling to be free to kill the human.

Their task done, the twins, their father, the King, and the two sentries were gathered around Legolas’ bed. _Remove it already,_ he thought but did not say. The King had been about to tell them his decision before Legolas had woken; Aragorn hoped that Thranduil would not vacillate any longer.

His hopes were dashed, for Thranduil asked of them, “Where is Lord Erestor? You said that he knows more about these stones than anyone does. I have not heard all that he knows, unlike the rest of you. If I am to see my son die today, then I will not agree to see it done without knowing all there is to know of them.”

A meandering suspicion was aroused in the Ranger’s mind with the King’s words. _Surely, he has heard and seen enough to know that the stone is best removed as soon as possible._ It was not a matter of whether to remove the stone, but whether to remove the stone right now. Earlier, out of fear that the guilt and sorrow would overwhelm the laegel, Aragorn had wanted to wait until Legolas’ condition improved; now, he feared that the laegel’s guilt and sorrow would only increase the longer that they waited, now that Legolas’ injuries were bettered.

However, Aragorn could not argue with Thranduil, for indeed, if Legolas were to die today, then Estel wanted the King to have no doubt that he had agreed to the best option for the Prince. If speaking to Erestor and hearing the details that he had not had the chance to learn earlier would help Thranduil through what came next, then Aragorn would have it no other way, for should Legolas die, the Ranger would not wish Thranduil to feel any guilt over choosing to let Legolas die of his own accord.

“That is most wise. Erestor can tell you what he knows, as you wish, and once done, I believe you will see that removing the stone immediately is best for Legolas,” his father arranged with Thranduil. No one else seemed to find the King’s dithering suspicious. The Peredhel nodded and smiled. A weight had been lifted from everyone in the room or so it seemed to Estel. To have a course of action, for the Noldor, Silvan, and their Sindarin King to have reached a consensus and the enmity between them to have returned to friendship, and for there to be some hope for Legolas once more, had lightened the spirits of everyone. His father ordered of his twin sons, “Elladan, Elrohir, go find Erestor. Bring him back here straightaway.”

“Is there not some medicines or concoction that you can give Legolas? Something to ease his mind and body, so that he will not feel the full brunt of his grief the moment that the periapt is removed?” Thranduil asked Elrond while looking down upon the sentient but unmoving Prince.

“That is also wise,” the Peredhel told the King with another smile. “I will find something to calm him, but in the end,” Elrond warned Thranduil, placing his hand upon the King’s forearm to garner his attention from Legolas so that he knew the King heard him, “no medicine I can give him will relieve of him of his sorrow, though as you say, perhaps it will blunt it.”

Thranduil nodded absently, his gaze returning to the Prince upon the bed. “If we do the best that we can for him, then we will know that if he dies, it will be of his own volition. That is all I ask.”

The sentries, twins, and Peredhel were appeased by Thranduil’s sage words and calm acceptance that very soon his son may die. And still, as he watched Elrohir and Elladan take off at a decidedly unstately, un-Elflike run to find Erestor, and then his father hurry from the room to obtain the medicines he might need to calm Legolas, Aragorn could not help but think, _Thranduil is up to no good._

Once the sentries and King were alone with the Ranger, the King told Ninan, “Go find Faidnil. Tell him to bring me something to wear other than this dressing gown, and then go appease your sentries. They have heard their Prince screaming and are no doubt on edge, wondering what is happening. I do not wish them acting rashly should they continue on in the wrong belief that the Noldor are the cause for Legolas’ torment.” Ninan hesitated and looked at Legolas, but with the Prince tied, there was no viable reason for him to remain against his King’s orders, so he bowed and left the room to do as he was bid. Then, the King said to Kalin, “Go check on Galendil. See that he is comfortable and has what he needs.”

Kalin bowed slightly and went to the door at once, although he stopped to look to Estel. Unhidden and mounting panic shone clearly upon Kalin’s pale face. When Kalin left, the King and Ranger would be alone with his Prince. Thinking that perhaps the sentry did not want to leave his Prince alone for even the few minutes that it would take to do as he had been ordered, Estel sat down in the chair next to the bed and told Kalin, “We will keep watch over him.”

What he truly meant for the sentry to know was that he was not leaving Legolas’ side and his Prince would not be alone with his volatile father; he hoped that this would allay the kind sentry’s worry. It must have done so, for Kalin smiled with relief at Estel and took his leave, pulling the door almost shut behind him. Thranduil stood at the mantel, though the Ranger could not see him for he stood behind the human’s chair, but he heard a soft clack and turned just in time to see the King opening the lid on the box of periapts.

“That something so small and seemingly innocuous could have caused so much harm,” the King was wondering aloud as he gazed upon the set of stones within the carved box. Thranduil stuck his hand out as if to run his fingers over the periapts but stopped before his hand lit upon any. Taking a step closer to the mantel, he blocked Aragorn’s view of the box, causing the Ranger to begin to rise from his chair to ensure that Thranduil did not touch a stone and become ensorcelled by it in some way. But the King had moved away and with a snap, the lid on the box was shut.

It made the human nervous for Thranduil to be near the periapts, though he did not know why. Thranduil had tasked his sentries and the Noldor such that they had all left the room for various reasons. Something about the King’s odd demeanor did not sit right with Aragorn. “The stones are innocent enough in purpose, if their users are innocent in purposing them. After today, Lord Elrond will destroy them,” he assured the Elf-King.

“As well he should,” Thranduil was saying. With relief, Aragorn settled back into his chair when Thranduil walked away from the mantel. The King came to where the human sat. “If Legolas chooses to die today, I will not have him pass without asking for his forgiveness, even if he is not truly able to understand me,” Thranduil explicated to the Ranger. Unshed tears shone in the Elf-King’s eyes and whatever misgivings he felt for the King having seemingly contrived to send everyone away were assuaged by Thranduil telling him his ostensible reason for doing so. “Please, Estel. Give me a few moments alone with my son before the others return.”

“Legolas holds no grudge against you, but do as you will, for perhaps your apology and kindness will mollify his grief in some way.” Despite Thranduil’s recent good will, Estel was not about to go far. He could not deny the King the chance to reconcile with his son. Estel did not fear Legolas dying today – he felt that his lover would live because he held a vague superstition that by not recognizing the possibility of Legolas’ death, he might keep it from happening – however, if Thranduil wanted to apologize to the Prince, then Estel could see no harm in it. The Ranger pulled his pipe and leaf from the inner pocket of his tunic, telling the King pointedly, “I will be just outside, should you need me. Call out if his condition worsens.”

The human lingered before he went to the balcony. He tamped weed into his pipe bowl, took a straw from the bin next to the fireplace, and set fire to it with the lit oil lamp on the mantel. He set the straw to the bowl and pulled in the fire to light his pipe, watching Thranduil sit himself on the bed beside the awake but unresponsive Prince. As he walked from the room quickly so that he would not fill the laegel’s room with the smoke that Legolas so hated, Estel could hear Thranduil doing just as he had said he planned to do – that is, speaking to his son – although the Ranger could not hear the exact words that the Elf-King whispered to the Prince. Averse to leaving, Aragorn forced himself to go out onto the balcony, his lit pipe in hand, his lungs full of the acrid, pleasant, and very soothing smoke of smoldering long leaf. He would have the time to smoke his bowl of pipe-weed before all returned, for the twins might need to search to find Erestor and Elrond would need to make available several different medicines and tinctures that might placate Legolas without rendering him unconscious.

He pulled hard upon his pipe. _Today this will end. I promised you, Greenleaf._ In a short while, the stone would be gone, Legolas’ mind would be freed from Mithfindl, and he hoped to be able to begin the process of bringing the Wood-Elf Prince back to him. _At least now, Thranduil will help Legolas to heal, rather than rail against him and wish that he were dead,_ the human contemplated. When in Mirkwood, after Legolas had been defiled and abused in the woods, the Prince had gone to his King as commanded; Thranduil had worked against Estel as he tried to heal Legolas’ faer. But now, with Thranduil’s love added to the love of his second family, his sentries, and the unconditional love of Estel, Legolas would have no barrier to his faer’s mending.

Even still, the kindness that the King was showing his son was so strange to the Ranger that had not they already removed the periapt from Thranduil, Aragorn would have thought the King to be under some spell. _Legolas did say that his father tried to be a good Ada to him, ere he left Eryn Galen for Imladris. He tries, at least._ He faltered in his thoughts and his smoking when he heard Legolas moan. This in itself was not unexpected. In fact, Estel was more surprised that Legolas had not begun screaming as he had before in his attempts to be free to kill the Adan. A second later, Estel heard Kalin asking the King how his Prince fared. Aragorn ceased his fretting and drew in another lungful of smoke from his pipe, his thoughts returning to his hopeful expectations of what would occur when his lover had his own will restored.

As he tapped the ashes of his pipe onto the stone floor of the balcony, he heard Kalin ask, “I thought we waited.” At once, the Ranger heedlessly dropped his pipe onto the small table beside the bench and left the balcony, striding into the Prince’s room just in time to hear Kalin implore his King, “What have you done?” 


	50. Chapter 50

Estel could not be inside the laegel’s room quickly enough. He nearly slipped upon the carpeting in his haste to get close to the bedside. At once, the Ranger noted the blood upon Thranduil’s hands and that the knife – the same knife that Legolas had used to stab Aragorn – was lying upon the bed next to where Legolas’ immobile hands were bound. _What has he done? What has he done?_ the human recited to himself in repetition. Thranduil sat where he had before although at some point he must have gone to the fireplace, for he had taken the knife from the mantel but also the box of stones, which now lay at the end of the Woodland Prince’s bed. From what he could see, Estel determined with a sudden fount of immense relief, _Thranduil has removed the stone_.

He had heard Kalin say something about thinking that they waited for Erestor, so had thought that perhaps Thranduil had rashly cut free the periapt, but the sentry had sounded appalled, as well. But then, without Elrond’s tinctures or the others’ presence, it was indeed rash for Thranduil to have done this because the Prince might have died the moment that the stone was removed – if not from the removal of the stone itself, then from grief. Right now, Kalin was fretting over his Prince, feeling the laegel’s face and smoothing his hair away from his brow. Legolas was frowning, his body quaking, his eyes screwed shut. _What effects will he suffer with the stone removed? We cannot now leave him tied lest his being tied brings back memories of the torment he has suffered._ Without consulting the King, who paid no attention to anyone but the Prince, Aragorn reached over to take up the knife so that he could cut away the strips of cloth they had only just tied over the Wood-Elf to secure him to the bed. In doing so, he saw into the box containing the periapt stones.

There was a dribbling trail of blood leading to the well where the stone that had been upon Legolas was now returned. The stone itself was covered in blood – Legolas’ blood – for the periapt had been slightly embedded in the Elf’s skin, just as Erestor had warned them would happen, and Thranduil had needed to cut the laegel’s scalp to remove it. And yet, although the stone upon the Prince had been replaced, there was a stone missing from the box. It was then that Aragorn looked to Kalin in confusion; the sentry was trying to comfort his Prince, or so it seemed to the Ranger. Yet, when Estel truly took note of Kalin’s face and saw the horror thereon, he realized, _Thranduil removed the stone only to place another one upon Greenleaf._

“What have you done?” he charged Thranduil, repeating what Kalin had asked only a moment ago. The deed was done, the stone placed, and the King’s instructions already given – Aragorn could tell this from the way that Thranduil waited over his son.

“I did what only I could.” Sitting back in his chair, his tearstained face holding no conceit or pride, Thranduil admitted, “I told him to live. I told him that he was not to leave me.”

“You have treated him like an animal, just as Mithfindl has done,” Kalin whispered vindictively. The sentry’s face had lost all color. “Elrond was returning with medicines to soothe him. The twins were returning with Lord Erestor with more information. And yet, you selfishly risked the Prince’s life just to control him as did Mithfindl.”

“I do not seek to control him, merely to let him live!” Thranduil countered as he grabbed hold of Kalin’s arm to keep him from removing the periapt, though the sentry had made no move to do so. Roughly, the King yanked Kalin from the Prince and then shoved him away from the bed entirely, his action only hinting at the promise of further violence. “Do not dictate to me how to keep my son safe and well, since your failure in this undertaking is the reason he now lies here!”

He would not have thought that Kalin could become any paler, but the sentry now looked bloodless. Thranduil was trying to berate and belittle Kalin to divert the sentry’s attention from what he had forced upon Legolas – Kalin knew this and did not fall for it, although the King’s accusation had struck a nerve in the process. Coming back to the bed, to where Thranduil stood, Kalin argued, “Can you not see that he suffers? Can you not feel his faer’s grief, his desire to fade? If the Prince wishes to die, then it is not our place to keep him here through sorcery and deceit.”

The Elvenking returned to his chair without further argument, deeming his actions beyond the reproach of a mere sentry. Estel had forgotten that he intended to cut free his Elven lover; instead, he was watching Legolas in anticipation of what might happen now that Mithfindl’s volition was hopefully removed from him. The Ranger plopped ungracefully down into the chair in which he had sat earlier before going out onto the balcony to enjoy his pipe. For the nonce, he was torn between wanting to thrash the King and wanting to thank him. He would never have forced Legolas into living but Thranduil had done it. As despicable as it was, if it kept Legolas alive long enough for them to aid him, to explain to him what had happened and let the Elf’s mind absorb the shock of his being subjugated, then the Ranger could not be furious. Besides, he had used the stone for the same purposes in the very early hours of this morning, when Legolas had tried to demean himself to earn Aragorn’s clemency. Estel had used the old stone to calm the Prince; it was hard for him to gather the self-righteousness to be angry at Thranduil’s use of a new one.

When the Elf-King did not answer and Estel did not raise his own voice in protest, the Prince’s sentry turned to the Ranger to ask, “You knew of this?”

“Of course not,” he replied. “But let us consider this, Kalin.”

The Ranger vacillated for a moment, considering whether having a stone upon the Prince would aid or hinder his health. He ran both hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face. In surprise, for he had thought that the Ranger would argue against having the imprecated charm upon Legolas, Thranduil looked up and to Estel to give him an appraising frown. The Adan reasoned aloud, “As long as it is used only to maintain his well-being for a brief period of time – just as long as it takes for your Prince to grasp what has happened. Let us see that Legolas knows the truth of the past few days and then remove the periapt.”

Kalin crossed his arms over his chest as he saw the human’s uneasy acceptance of the King’s actions and grew just as irate at the Adan as he was at his sovereign. “You had no right,” the sentry said, having lost his temper completely, it seemed to the Ranger, as he inveighed his King, “You would have him under your thumb. You remove one set of chains only to shackle him again.”

“As Estel has said, it is only temporary,” the King tried to explain to Kalin. Thranduil’s anger had become fervent placation in his attempt to garner Kalin’s complicity. Perhaps Kalin’s argument was having some effect on the Elf-King but Aragorn imagined that Thranduil only tolerated Kalin’s outburst because in the end he needed the sentry’s compliance. Regardless of his King’s wishes, Kalin would cut the stone out of Legolas’ hair if he felt the periapt was harming his Prince – Thranduil knew this. In fact, Kalin was likely the only one of them willing to go against the King’s wishes with strength rather than mere argument, as Elrond would give them upon his return. “It is a precaution, Kalin. I told Legolas only that he cannot give in to his grief just yet, that he mustn’t leave me.”

With Aragorn sitting on one side and Thranduil sitting on the other, the sentry had no easy access to his Prince, should he try to remove the stone by force. “Then why did you not wait for Elrond?” the sentry asked but then answered his own question, “Because you knew that no one would allow this!”

“I do not ask a sentry’s permission to take care of my child!” the King shouted, his infamous ire recommencing at Kalin’s aberrant behavior. “Nor is it anyone else’s decision. He is my son. You forget yourself, Kalin, and your place,” the Elf-King warned. Having had enough of Kalin’s meddling, Thranduil told him, “If you cannot hold your tongue and do as you are told, as is your sworn duty, then I relieve you of service. Be gone.”

“I am not in your service!” the sentry roared, his ire knowing no bounds. Estel watched in indecision while the sentry paced at the end of the bed. Kalin had been thwarted – having been shown the end of his Prince’s suffering, he now thought it to be restored – and thus the Wood-Elf sentry would not give in so easily to allowing his friend and charge to be bound to another’s will. “I am Legolas’ sentry. I swore to protect him. If you think to relieve me of that oath, then I will make it again to Ilúvatar and to Legolas, and I will protect him still.”

So flabbergasted was Thranduil at the sentry’s flagrant, continued disobedience that he had nothing to say to that outraged proclamation. However, a whispery, hoarse voice interrupted the argument with, “Kalin, please. If you are my servant still, then do as I bid: stop arguing with my father and untie me.”

The human and two Elves looked down to the Prince upon the bed.

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Although he had been conscious and listening to all this arguing and earlier had heard his father’s words to him, Legolas was not entirely sure of what they spoke. The bits and pieces of conversation had not yet gelled in his mind enough to solidify his understanding. No one had yet to speak to him of the stone, so he had no clear concept of what had caused his sentry and father’s row.

Earlier, Legolas had heard Aragorn say that he would be on the balcony to smoke. Moments later, he had smelled the pungent, piquant scent of the Adan’s pipe-weed. Although conscious, Legolas had been raptly trying to remain lucid, for the odium for Estel that had been engendered into his thinking was requiring all of the Elf’s concentration to fight against it.

His father had been sitting beside him, murmuring unintelligibly, but once Estel was outside, the Elf-King had left the Prince long enough to retrieve a knife from the mantel, along with the box of periapts, though the laegel had not known what the box held. Once reseated, Thranduil had turned Legolas’ head to the side before he began threading his fingers along the Prince’s scalp. Finally, he had found what he’d searched for; the King had needed to slit the skin of the younger Elf’s scalp, since it had begun to grow over the periapt, before slicing free the lock of hair on which the stone had been tied.

All that Legolas really understood for now was that one moment he had been lost in his hateful thoughts, fighting against the overwhelming urge to scream until his goal of seeing Estel dead was accomplished, and then he had felt a momentary sting upon the back of his head. As if it had been a festering, painful abscess, the lancing of his scalp and subsequent removal of the stone upon him had released the suppuration accrued from the last few days. But somehow, this small pain that his father had inflicted upon him had also freed the Prince although he wasn’t certain how that was so, except that he felt as if his cage door had been opened and he had only to walk through it.

Dammed up emotions, kept at bay by Mithfindl’s instruction not to fade, and his having been made to forget selective memories and events were now loosed in a flood of shame and an escalating, acute desire to die. Thranduil had known the moment that the stone was removed that his son would not live, for he had immediately felt as the Prince sought to do as he had been trying to do all morning – to separate rhaw from faer and leave his corporeal body behind for their pyre while his soul went on to Mandos’ Halls.

It wasn’t until a few seconds later, when his father had hurriedly begun fussing with his hair again that Legolas realized he remembered everything; in fact, he remembered details and events that he was not aware he had forgotten or that he had been made to misremember. In the few minutes that Estel had been outside smoking, the Elf-King had done what he thought necessary. Thranduil had acted as quickly as possible, as he was well aware that the removal of the first stone had released the barrier keeping his son from death. At feeling his father trying to tie another stone into his hair, the Wood-Elf Prince had not tried to struggle because he had been on the cusp of death. The liberation he’d felt had been short-lived, for once the new stone was upon him, the laegel felt once more as if the door to his cage had been slammed shut just as he’d gathered the courage to step out of it. His father had then placed his hand upon the stone and told him just as he had admitted to Estel and Kalin – Thranduil had told his son that he was not to die, that he could not leave his Ada, and that he could not give in to grief just yet.

And oh, how he had longed for grief to take him. He would have let himself die just to be free of it. But his father’s words, along with the imprecated periapt, had done as intended; Thranduil had no more needed the poppy medicines than had Estel or Elrond, for despite their differences, Legolas trusted his father and accepted his demands as willingly as he had his lover and Minyatar. Suddenly, the feeling of wanting to die had passed, although the wrenching agony of his sorrow and humiliation remained, such that he suffered an agony worse than that of his body before Elrond had mended him and once more, he could not die to be free of the torment.

Now, as he lay on the bed, having silenced their argument with his asking Kalin to cease fighting with his father, Legolas kept his eyes closed against having to see those around him, whom he loved more than his own life and yet had harmed with his feebleness. He was too mortified to look at them.

“Untie me, please,” he asked of them again when no one had yet to move to eradicate the strips of sheet they had placed upon him.

Legolas could not bear to be bound any longer. If they still thought that he would kill Estel and so intended to keep him tied, then they would most certainly ensure the human’s safety but they would do it by causing the Prince’s death. Of course, having not yet understood that his father had released him from one confinement only to place him in a different cage, Legolas did not know that he could not give in to his grief and die because he had been commanded not to do so.

At the laegel’s second plea to be untied, they worked to remove the fastenings that held him to the bed, beginning with his arms and torso. The moment that he could move his upper body, the Silvan Prince turned onto his side away from where he thought Estel was standing beside the bed. He did not dare to look at the human. If Aragorn hated him, Legolas would not blame the Adan, but he would not be able to live with it.  

_Of course, he hates me. Why would he not hate me? I have accused him of being an attempted murderer. I have accused him of being my attacker. I have tried to kill him._

He could remember them tying him. He could even remember asking them to tie him so that he would not be a danger to Estel. In fact, there was very little from the past few days that he could not remember – without Mithfindl’s sway holding back his memories any longer, Legolas was cognizant of every word said to him, every deed of his, and every misdeed perpetrated against him. His confusion was gone – or at least, now gone were the intentional misperceptions that Mithfindl had created and the befuddlement he had felt from the conflicting knowledge imparted upon him from Mithfindl’s perpetual lies and Estel’s attempts to calm him earlier that morning. His head ached but it was not the same agonizing throbbing as before. Most importantly, he knew exactly who the cause of all of this was.

 _Mithfindl,_ the Prince thought. _It was never Estel. It was always Mithfindl._

With the stone gone, Legolas felt no desire to kill or hurt Estel, he did not fear the Ranger, nor did he still believe that his lover had any hand in his torment. For a moment, the sorrow abated somewhat as a loathing grew within him that was so profound in its depths and purpose that the Wood-Elf felt strengthened by it; the need to kill Mithfindl for his wrongdoings might be enough to sustain him.

Legolas recollected everything, beginning with the night of the feast when Mithfindl had drugged his King and him and then thrashed him, placing a strange stone upon him that had been the source of his misery, though Legolas was not sure exactly how. Mithfindl had molested him afterwards, promising that they would finish what Mithfindl had begun in the woods around Imladris that early spring day months ago. The next day, he had suffered the Noldorin warrior’s molestation yet again, though he only just now recalled it having happened. He remembered Faelthîr being there, what she had said and how she had spoken of tricking Kalin into giving her information to use against the King and Prince. He knew that he had accused Estel of being the cause of Thranduil’s insentience because Mithfindl had told him to. He had denied Elladan and Elrohir the chance to use the tonic on his father because he had believed in Mithfindl’s assertion that they could not be trusted. Legolas had returned to Mithfindl that same night, which is when the Noldo had told him that he was Estel, had blindfolded him, and then under the guise of Estel, had defiled him, beaten him, and broken his will to live while simultaneously threatening his father and thus forcing him to persist in living. After a few months of not hearing the odious voice of his sorrow and loathing, Mithfindl – as Estel – had awoken the scar.

_Why did I ever believe him to be Estel? Why did I return to him for more debasement?_

He knew that he had not been himself, that he had been purposefully subdued with the poppy, that this stone of which everyone spoke and that Mithfindl had taken care to place his hands upon during his abuse had played an important part in all of this. Still, he could not believe himself blameless. He had been lax in letting himself be drugged in the first place and only determined that his mind was daft to have unreservedly believed the Noldorin warrior.

Now completely untied, Legolas curled into himself on his side on the bed, drawing his legs up to his chest and pressing his forehead against his knees.

The conversation that he and Estel had in the garden – the conversation that had almost ended in Aragorn’s death – was now cast in a different light. The Adan had known nothing of what was being done to Legolas but even after being accused of it, still he had tried to help the Prince, had promised to find out the truth and make his true attacker pay. Even when Kalin had almost slit Estel’s throat after overhearing Legolas say that the human was his rapist, Aragorn had not given up on his Silvan lover. He had convinced his own people to turn against the Noldor, to turn against Estel. Legolas had made a fool out of himself.

_I deserve all that Mithfindl forced upon me. Ada was right._

His own father had said this when speaking to him soon after the King’s awakening – that is, that Legolas deserved his beating because he had been too weak to fight off his attacker. That the Prince had thought his attacker was Estel, who the laegel would never have wittingly harmed even if the human were hurting him, had meant nothing to Thranduil. Now that he knew that at times he had been aware that it had been Mithfindl with him, even if he’d been too drugged to care, Legolas also knew that not once had he fought against Mithfindl, which had allowed the Noldo to use the stone against him. He had been pathetic, gullible, and perhaps he had even desired the treatment he had received.

_Again, I have become a whore for the gain of another._

In abject misery, Legolas recalled that he had not been just a passive participant in his own subjugation; in fact, only that morning he had offered Estel his body for excruciation and despoilment in hopes that it would appease the human. So keen had he been for more abuse that the Ranger had been forced to use the periapt to keep the Prince from forcing his unwanted, sickening advances upon the human, instead. He recalled this with nauseating precision. He had begged Estel to despoil him, to tie him, to repeat the tortures that the human merchants had done to him. Surely, he had acted so to try to keep his father safe, but no rational, sane Elf would ask for such treatment.

As his stomach and chest heaved – his stomach with sickness and his chest for air – Legolas could only conclude, _I am abhorrent. I have truly become the whore that Kane, Sven, and Cort told me I was._

His father and his sentry could recognize the growing desolation that the Prince was feeling; he knew this for he could sense their concomitant concern as it mounted in tandem with the decline of his will to live. Even if Aragorn could not perceive the slow decay of Legolas’ faer, Estel knew his lover well enough to know that he was lost in despair. Like before, though, when the laegel had tried so desperately to die, Legolas could do nothing but continue his horrified litany of odium. As each memory surfaced, Legolas’ culpability in the events of the past few days seemed to grow.

Again, he thought to himself, _I bring them all pain and worry. I should have faded months ago. None of this would have happened. Ada would not have been drugged. Minyatar and the twins would not have had their home sullied by the horrendous performances Mithfindl has enacted. Estel would not be injured; he would not have had to suffer from my lunacy. If I had died, he would already have moved on from his sorrow._

Thranduil, Kalin, and Estel were speaking to each other or to him. He could not concentrate on their words. His father placed his hand upon the Prince’s shoulder; strange though it was to have Thranduil offer any sort of comfort, Legolas might have felt better for it had not he been sure that his father had only asked him to live and endure his sorrow, to remain and not to leave him, for the sole reason that Thranduil did not want to abide the shame of his progeny dying from exploitation and anguish.

_Does all of Imladris know what I have become? Do they all know that I have gone mad, that I am the plaything of Mithfindl and almost willingly so, since I did nothing to stop it?_

Legolas had heard bits and pieces of what his father had said to Elrond and Estel earlier, when they thought him unconscious but his body had still been unable to find insentience due to Mithfindl’s instruction against it. Thranduil had told those in the room – all the laegel’s closest friends and allies – that his son was ruined. He could not begin to hope that his father would not cast blame against him for all this, even though he had been sympathetic earlier that day. His mind turned to what had happened just after speaking to his father and being comforted by him then, before Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel had interrupted the royal sire and son. The Silvan Prince had allowed himself to be defiled yet again. This time, he was quite sure that he had known that it was Mithfindl even while under the sway of the stone. Certainly, he had been taken by surprise while already seriously hampered with injury, and yes, he had been forced to imbibe more of the poppy tincture, which had clouded his thinking, but he could allow himself no slack for it.

_I am tainted, in both mind and body. Ada was right when he told Minyatar that it is only right for my rhaw and faer to be hewn from the other. I ought to die. Death is the only way I may be clean again._

With frightening clarity, the Elf could not help but to recall every moment of Mithfindl’s newest attack upon him. He had tried to get away but yet again Mithfindl’s hand upon the stone placed in his hair had quieted the Prince at once. And so, the laegel had only lain there, letting himself be choked, letting himself be raped, wishing for death and unable to find it for the same reason that he did not fight – the stone.

_They should have let me die. They should have killed me. It would be a mercy to them and to me. I would that Mithfindl had killed me. At least I would not now be bringing my Ada, Minyatar, and friends these quandaries. I would not have to face them and see their pity._

An irrepressible shudder went through him as he thought of the pain that Mithfindl had delightedly caused him. The Noldorin warrior had beaten him with a brick. Mithfindl had nearly killed Legolas before taking him under the bushes. Treating him like the soiled creature that the Prince felt to be, Mithfindl had taken his pleasure yet again from Legolas, once more proving to the Wood-Elf that he was nothing except the means to someone else’s end, whether it was for him to be the object of Mithfindl’s perverse hate, the human merchants’ whore, or the recipient of his father’s misplaced anger.

Still not aware that his Adar had placed upon him another stone, Legolas only wondered, _Why am I not yet dead? I should have stabbed myself instead of Estel._

His father, Kalin, and Estel were still speaking to him. His King had taken to shaking him to rouse him from his stupefied grief while Kalin was making some threat, by the sound of his voice, though whom he was trying to intimidate was unclear. He could not understand what they were saying, so intent was he on listening to the recriminations of his own mind. His human lover was repeating the Prince’s common nickname, the laegel thought, and Estel sounded very anxious. When the Wood-Elf’s thoughts returned to the veracious facts of the most recent events from the past few days, the memory of stabbing Estel became the new focus of his determination to die.

 _How could I have hurt him?_ he rued. _How could I let Mithfindl talk me into trying to kill Estel?_

Unbeknownst to him, Legolas was breathing only small gasps of air. His father was pulling the younger Elf into sitting, as if this might rouse the Prince. He allowed this but slumped over to the side. The Ranger put his hand under the Sivan’s chin to tilt his head back to try to gain Legolas’ attention, but still the Wood-Elf did not open his eyes, for he did not want to see the human’s concern. He was not worthy of it. Moreover, he did not deserve the Ranger’s forgiveness but he had to ask. He needed to beg for Aragorn’s understanding.

_I owe him more than an apology. I owe him the dignity of my dying so that he can be free of me. With his forgiveness, maybe I can fade._

At last, Legolas opened his eyes and tried to remain upright so that he could face Estel. With his hand still upon the Woodland Prince’s chin, the Ranger ceased whatever he had been saying when the laegel finally gave him his attention. Legolas reached out to the human to grab hold of his tunic, to begin his supplication; however, the Prince’s sudden movement caused the Ranger to lean back, his face wary as he thought that the laegel might not be truly well and thus try to attack him again. At once, the wretched Wood-Elf’s head dropped and his eyes closed. He lowered his arm; he managed to stifle his sobbing before it began. He had wanted to apologize, to beseech Estel to forgive him, but now it seemed hopeless. All seemed hopeless.

_I have pushed him too far away. I have pushed him away from me forever. How much of my madness could I expect Estel to endure? Why would I be surprised that he forsakes me now?_

All of these reproaches had been his own, not a seemingly separate and malevolent entity. The self-hatred and doubt were his own once more, as they had been prior to his gaining the scar in the woods while trying to flee Sven and Cort. But still his thoughts sounded so much like the scar’s voice that the Prince reached down to grab his marred thigh, only to remember that his Minyatar’s healing touch had completely eradicated all traces of it. He had grown accustomed to silencing the scar by aggravating the healing muscles there, by renewing the ache that had seemed at home in that part of his flesh. Now that the wound and the latent, ever-present ache were gone, how could he now silence the vile vociferations?

Unable to quiet his thoughts, Legolas considered, _After all this, Estel finally sees how repulsive I am. I cannot blame him for wanting to be rid of me._

A hand caught his hand and pulled it away. “Leave the scar be,” he heard Estel say. With a kind if somewhat hesitant gesture, the Ranger took the Prince’s hand and with the laegel’s hand ensconced in his own, brought their entwined limbs to his chest and against the center of his torso so that it was pressed hard against his heart. “Do not listen to it, Greenleaf. What it tells you are only lies, just as what Mithfindl has told you for the last several days.”

“The scar is not there any longer,” Thranduil told the Ranger and Kalin, neither of whom had been present earlier when Legolas had disrobed to dress in the clothes he now wore, so thus neither of them knew that Elrond had unintentionally mended all traces of the scar. “His leg is healed completely.”

“It is gone?” the Ranger asked wonderingly. “That is good news, but you speak only of the physical scar,” the human told the King. “What it came to represent is not yet healed.”

He could feel Estel’s rapid heartbeat under his hand. Afraid to open his eyes again lest he see the wariness in the human’s kind visage once more, Legolas began his pleas with his face turned to the blanket under him, saying, “I am sorry, Estel. Please.” He felt he had no right to ask for compassion. To the Prince, the grievous wrongs Legolas had committed against Estel were as damning as those that Mithfindl had perpetrated against Legolas, so it was without hope that he entreated, “Forgive me, Estel. I am sorry. That I stabbed you. That I accused you. Please, do not hate me.”

The human let go of Legolas’ hand so that he could hold the Elf’s face, instead. With a callused and gentle palm on each of the Wood-Elf’s now only faintly bruised cheeks, the Ranger tried to lift Legolas’ head up to cause him to face the Adan again. The Prince would not have it. He twisted his head out of Estel’s hold and scooted to the edge of the bed beside which Aragorn sat. His eyes sealed shut, the laegel opened them only long enough to get his bearings so that when he fell to his knees he would be facing the Adan’s legs.

“Legolas!” his father barked in irritated distress to see his son trying to bow before a human. “Get up!”

His irate King was on his feet and angrily striding to him but was halted when Kalin grabbed hold of his arm. Kalin’s temporary slowing of the King had calmed Thranduil’s instantaneous anger towards his son and now the sentry and King walked together to the Prince.

“I am abhorrent, I know, please,” he told the Adan. Estel did not sit still but for a moment ere he was on his own knees with a grunt of pain, having roughly shoved away the chair he’d been sitting on so that he could kneel on the floor with the Prince, for he could no more withstand Legolas stooping in obeisance before him than could Thranduil. “Please,” the Wood-Elf repeated, “please Estel. I am sorry. Forgive me. I did not mean to hurt you. I did not mean to betray you.”

It wasn’t long before his sentry and his father were behind him, one on either side to drag him from the floor. They deposited him gently upon the bed before Thranduil stuck his hand out to Estel to help him into rising from the floor. Having been truly unconscious when his father had made his peace with the Ranger, Legolas was shocked into momentary silence by his King’s thoughtfulness towards Aragorn until he found his voice to begin again. “I am daft, I am disgusting,” he offered, knowing that all in the room must know this to be true just as he did, “but do not hate me, I beg you. I have earned your hate and disgust, but please. Forgive me.”

He looked up to the Ranger to see that Estel’s weary, stubbled face was covered in trails of tears. Unable to look upon the man to whom he had pledged his life, if not in the manner of the Elves than the best that he could manage with his tattered faer; the very human for whom he had fought his grief and lived for so that Estel would not be harmed by his death; the Adan to whom he had brought nothing but unhappiness.

The mattress dipped beside him as Aragorn sat upon it. From the way that the Adan moved, Legolas could guess what Estel was doing as the human rested his back against the headboard of the bed. Inhaling a sharp and painful breath in sudden anticipation, Legolas dared to hope that he knew what Estel would do next. He was not disappointed. Estel reached out for the quivering and downtrodden Wood-Elf and pulled him into his arms, drawing the Prince into the space between the Adan’s legs, such that the laegel was reclined on one hip, his side reclined against Estel’s front, and his head upon the human’s chest. With a joy that he knew that he did not deserve derived from a man that he did not merit, Legolas wrapped his arms around the human’s chest and pressed his face into Aragorn’s broad, muscled trunk. He tried to keep his side from hitting the wound that he had made upon the human’s belly but Estel’s hold was too tight, for the Ranger wound his arms so forcefully around the Elf that it nearly took the Prince’s breath away.

Into the laegel’s ear, though obviously not so softly that Kalin and Thranduil could not hear, Estel whispered, “I could never hate you, Greenleaf.” The human was still weeping: Legolas could hear it in his voice. “You are neither daft nor disgusting. I cannot forgive you because none of this was your fault, meleth nin.”

“Then why have I allowed this to happen?” he asked those around him. To be in the Ranger’s arms once more, without the fear of being hurt or the false agony of betrayal, was more than the Prince could have expected, but it did not change his opinion or worry. “I have been weak,” he told them all in a frail voice.

“You could not help it. No one would have been able to resist it, Greenleaf,” his lover assured him. “Not I, not your father, not even your Minyatar, more than likely, even with his magic. The stone,” Estel told the laegel, “that Mithfindl secured into your hair was ensorcelled. It corrupted and enslaved your mind. Whatever Mithfindl told you to do or say, whatever he told you to believe, you were forced into doing, saying, or believing. You had no choice,” the Ranger explained. Aragorn had pulled his legs in closer to his body such that with Legolas between them, his hip against the flexure betwixt Estel’s long lower limbs, the Wood-Elf was enfolded nearly as tightly by the Adan’s legs as he was embraced by his arms.

The Prince buried his face into the tunic above the Adan’s heart, hearing its beating, feeling the warmth of his lover, and wishing that he could crawl inside the Ranger and hide, as strange a feeling as it was. In time, Legolas might have accepted what Estel told him as truth, that he had not been weak of will but as unable to fight the periapt as anyone in his position would have been, but it was his father who offered to Legolas the most soothing balm to his wounded faer, for Thranduil told his son, “You have done nothing wrong, ion nin. All that you have said and done these past few days, all that has happened. None of it was your fault. You are blameless.”

At this unexpected clemency, Legolas lifted his head from the Ranger’s chest. So eager to receive Estel’s affection and forgiveness had he been that the Prince had not thought about what his Ada might say to see his son in the arms of the human whom he hated most in the world. Surprisingly, his father was weeping but did not appear angry at all; in fact, when he looked to his Adar, the King was smiling despite his tears. Thranduil and Kalin had not moved far from where they had come to pick Legolas up from the floor. The King sat beside Legolas and Estel upon the bed, uncaring that his son was wrapped inside his human lover’s embrace, it seemed. Thranduil reached out and placed his hand upon the Prince’s face, where he lovingly caressed his progeny’s cheek as he smiled at Legolas.

Kalin pulled up the chair that Aragorn had pushed away and nearly knocked over. He placed it close by the bedside and sat in it. Even though earlier Kalin had been irate about something, now Kalin was weeping and his anger was forgotten. His sentry turned his face to the door, the smile dropping from his fair features as he warned them, “Elrond approaches.”


	51. Chapter 51

At the warning from Kalin that Elrond approached, Thranduil jumped up from his seat upon the bed to grab the bloodied knife and the box of stones, both of which he placed upon the mantelpiece above the dead fireplace. He could never hope to hide what he had done from Elrond but Estel soon learnt his intention when the King told the Ranger and sentry, “He must not know of it for now. Let us wait until the worst has passed.”

It took the Adan a moment to realize that Thranduil spoke of Legolas, not Elrond, and moved the box and knife to forfend Elrond’s asking about them in front of the laegel. The Ranger saw the wisdom of the Elf-King’s words but doubted that moving the items would keep Elrond from realizing what the King had done. Perhaps Thranduil appreciated this, as well, for he ordered Kalin, “Go to Elrond. Quick, before he enters.”

The sentry left at once to do as he’d been bid. Aragorn could hear his foster father outside in the hall, speaking to Ninan, who must have finished the tasks he’d been given by his King. Thranduil said nothing of what Kalin was supposed to tell the Peredhel, but given that Kalin was set against his King’s having used the stone, Estel assumed that the sentry would voice his opinion to Elrond and begin the fuss that would eventuate in the stone’s removal and the laegel’s death.

 _If Legolas knows that his father has placed an imprecated stone upon him to keep him from giving in to death, he may try to remove it and cause his own demise._ The Ranger did not want the laegel to hate his father for trying to save his life, as deceitful a method as he had used to do so. Estel held little esteem for Thranduil. There had been too many years where the Elf-King had treated the human poorly, Estel had seen and heard too many times of how Thranduil had been cruel to his son, and there had been entirely too many times that the Elvenking had seemed to act kindly only for his true, selfish intentions to be brought to light in the end.

However, the Ranger knew that Thranduil wanted Legolas to live, to be well and free of his sorrow and of his shame – if Thranduil wanted these things for his own selfish reasons, then that was fine by the Adan so long as it benefited his Greenleaf. Even so, Aragorn saw now that Thranduil had not lied to Legolas upon the King’s arrival in Imladris; the Elvenking had told the Prince that he wanted reconciliation. The time between Legolas standing up to his father and leaving Eryn Galen and the time that Thranduil arrived in the valley must have been conducive to the King’s change of heart. Estel had doubted the King’s aims but he doubted them no longer. _I am just as selfish as is Thranduil, besides,_ he told himself as he sifted his nose through the Wood-Elf Prince’s tangled hair, covetously inhaling the scent of his lover. _I would let the periapt be, now that it is on him already, in hopes that it gives Greenleaf the time to recuperate enough to choose to remain with us. I hope that Ada sees the worth of this idea._

Blood covered the back of the Wood-Elf Prince’s head and neck but not knowing where Thranduil had placed the new periapt, Aragorn avoided trying to stem the trickle of Legolas’ life essence from where his King had removed the old periapt. He could not imagine what the Prince was thinking, what he endured, or how painful his grief was to him, but across the flesh of his throat, Estel felt the Silvan’s breath quicken and knew that the laegel’s sorrow was escalating. He did not know why. He could hear Kalin and Elrond’s voices outside in the hall, though the words were muffled. It was possible that Legolas listened to what they said, though if this was so, Aragorn thought that Thranduil might have tried to shush them or kept the Prince from hearing since he intended to keep Legolas from knowing of the stone for now.

 _The scar cannot be speaking to him,_ the human feared of the now once more shaking laegel he held, _not while in my arms._

His touch had been one of the few ways that he and the Prince’s second family and friends had of combating the sway of the scar. Gone though the physical mar may be, the grief was now compounded with the new misery that had been forced upon the Wood-Elf. Aragorn pressed his face into the Elf’s hair, feeling the blood from the back of Legolas’ head trickle across his forearm as he brought his hand up to cup the side of his lover’s face. Just because Thranduil had commanded Legolas not to die from grief did not mean that the Wood-Elf did not suffer immensely from it. Indeed, this would be Elrond’s argument against what Thranduil had done – Legolas would suffer beyond what any Elf would normally be able to endure. He would surpass the level of torment that an Elf’s faer would ordinarily withstand before fleeing to Námo. Once the periapt was removed and the laegel’s command not to die was relieved, either Legolas would have managed to indurate his faer against the grief and he would live, or they would have forced the laegel through horrendous agony for a few days ere he died.

To try to calm the increasingly anxious Wood-Elf, Estel whispered to him, “All is well. All will be well,” he lied to the Prince. It was a falsehood that he did not mind telling, since he meant it as a promise. “Whatever you need, whatever it takes. I am here, Greenleaf.”

Legolas said nothing in response but he did take in a deep breath before slowly exhaling it, all of which the Ranger felt against his collarbone. The growing tension of the laegel’s muscles began to decrease. Estel’s own anxiety was reduced by this. If his presence did not ameliorate the laegel’s grief as it had in the past few months, then he hoped at least that his presence did not aggravate it.

Estel had feared that Legolas would never want him near again, much less so soon after being defiled. But just moments prior, when the stone was removed, Legolas had begun to beg for the human’s forgiveness and reached out for his comfort, which gave Estel hope that Thranduil had done the right thing and that his Greenleaf would be well in time. Even now, with his arms aching from holding Legolas to him as tightly as he could, Aragorn could not believe it. They had not yet asked the Prince, but being that the laegel wanted Estel’s affection, the Ranger could only assume that Legolas remembered enough to know that Aragorn was innocent. The Silvan did not shun the Ranger out of association with the foul acts committed against him by Mithfindl while under guise of the human.

Estel had feared this potential repercussion above all others – if Legolas had held onto his belief that the human was guilty then the Ranger would not be able to aid his lover in renewing his flagging desire to live. Besides, if the Prince were to die – and it was a good possibility that once the new stone was removed that Legolas would still give his faer over to grief and perish – then Estel at least could know that the Prince died understanding that the Adan had not hurt him and loved him. It was cold comfort but comfort nonetheless.

Neither Elf nor Man had moved much. Aragorn still sat against the headboard as he had now for several minutes, his legs drawn up and twisted in the laegel’s legs, his arms wrapped so securely around the Elf that it was a wonder that the Prince’s ribs weren’t bruised, and his head bowed so that he could rest his cheek upon the top of Legolas’ head. The Silvan kept his face buried in the cloth over the Ranger’s chest, his own arms wound around the human with as much eagerness as were Aragorn’s arms clasping the Prince. The Wood-Elf had not budged at all except that every so often, Legolas would let go of the Ranger to find better purchase of the human’s shirt, as though he feared the Adan would leave him.

This was ephemeral. As hopeful as he now felt, the nagging reminder of Thranduil’s guarantee for maintaining Legolas’ well-being was sapping the joy that the human felt. Of course, he did not want his Silvan lover to fade. He had said it to anyone willing to listen and thought it often to himself – Aragorn would rather die himself than Legolas die. Yet, the sorrow that the Wood-Elf felt was not the same as Orcs or spiders; the grief was not a tangible foe against which Estel could lay down his life in trade or defense of the Prince. He could do nothing save for what he was doing now – that is, offering his love, unreserved forgiveness, and doting affection.

Thranduil had been pacing around the door but now reseated himself on the bed next to where Estel and Legolas’ legs were intertwined. The abnormal acceptance that the King had shown the human was still evident in Thranduil’s actions. Never before – in Thranduil’s presence that is – had Estel shown the Prince the sort of affection he was displaying now. The two lovers were clinging to each other intimately, as lovers are habituated to do, and Thranduil did not seem at all displeased or ashamed of his son for it. In fact, the King had taken to running his hand along Legolas’ arms and legs in familiar, fatherly comfort, with a satisfied smile upon his face.

_The time Legolas spent away from his father, after fleeing Mirkwood to come to the valley to heal, must have truly changed Thranduil. Perhaps he saw then what he was doing to Legolas, or perhaps he realized that treating Legolas so cruelly would eventually drive Greenleaf away forever._

Without knocking, the Peredhel entered the room with Kalin only a step behind – the moment that Elrond crossed the threshold it was obvious that the Elf Lord knew what was amiss. Of course, even had Kalin not told him, it would have still been evident to Elrond that something strange was happening, for the laegel, who had sought to kill Estel and had keened and writhed when denied, was now being held by the human. The Peredhel sat upon the mantel his tray of tinctures and herbs, the mithril tea ball that they would have used to brew the herbs, and a jug of fresh water. Once this was done, Elrond opened the box of periapts that sat on the mantel, as well, for confirmation of what he’d been told by Kalin. He watched as his foster father lowered his head and took a deep breath to calm himself. His attempt to contain his anger did not suppress the rage evident in his verdigris eyes when Elrond swirled around to face the Ranger and Elves at the bed.

 _Ada may demand that we remove the new stone at once,_ he worried. Estel had known that Legolas would be eager to die once the first stone was removed, but seeing him now, trembling in the human’s embrace, weeping silently, clutching the Ranger with unquenchable need to sate his desire for forgiveness and absolution, the human knew that if they had done as intended and removed the periapt without placing a second stone upon the Prince – as Thranduil had done – then Legolas would be dead already. Every tincture and herb in the apothecary would not have kept the Prince alive and with them. _Thranduil must convince Ada to let it remain for a while._ If there was anyone who could win an argument with the indomitable Lord of Imladris, it would be Thranduil.

The Ranger refused to move or let go of Legolas, so he only peered over the Elf’s head to watch his father. The Peredhel was pulsating with anger. Estel had rarely ever seen his father so irate; in fact, the only other time in his life that he could recall seeing Elrond this livid was just the night before, when he had told his foster father, brothers, and friends that he had learnt from Legolas that the Prince had been raped in the Peredhel’s house. Prudently, however, Elrond did not speak aloud the invectives that lay latent upon his tongue. It would not help Legolas to know that he had been freed from one master only to be enthralled by another.

Instead, Elrond weaved his way in between Kalin and the bed, ignoring Thranduil to say to Legolas, “Greenleaf.” Despite his anger, the Peredhel was still overjoyed to see the Prince awake, aware, and free of Mithfindl, so Elrond began to smile as he looked down upon Legolas. “How do you feel, ion nin?”

He thought perhaps that Legolas would wish to sit now, but still, the Prince held tight to his lover. He answered his Minyatar though, his voice muffled in the Ranger’s tunic, “Like a fool. I am sorry,” the laegel began to Elrond, his shoulders twitching as his sobbing threatened to renew. “I am sorry that I have brought this trouble to your house. I am sorry that I did not trust you, that I made my father’s sentries mistrust you. I am sorry –”

Here the laegel was interrupted by Elrond, who would listen to no more of Legolas’ shamed apologies. “Hush, Greenleaf. Enough,” Elrond said firmly but kindly. He reached out and pulled at the laegel’s shoulder to shift him slightly away from Estel so that he could look into Legolas’ face, admonishing the Wood-Elf Prince, “Do not agonize over that which you could not control, nor apologize for actions that were not yours.”

Estel could not see his lover’s face but he felt as Legolas breathed in and exhaled greatly, his body relaxing once again at hearing his Minyatar’s words. At that moment, the twins arrived with Erestor in tow, having finally found the advisor where he’d been coordinating with the Imladrian guards in the search for Mithfindl. As they came through the open door, Elladan, Elrohir, and Erestor immediately sensed the strange undercurrent in the room. If nothing else, it must have surprised the twins to see Legolas in the arms of Estel, for the last time they had seen the Prince he had been eager to gut their human brother.

However, neither twin said anything, just as their father had not, but came to the bed with titanic smiles at noting that their Silvan friend was himself once more. Thranduil moved from the way so that the twins could reach Legolas. Wordlessly, the identical Noldor took turns in hugging Legolas, who because he did not sit up from his recline upon Estel, was pushed farther into the human when the twins each pressed the Wood-Elf between his body and the Ranger’s body. Before the laegel could begin his pleading apologies to Elladan and Elrohir, for the twins could sense that their longtime friend would beg their forgiveness, Elrohir was telling the Prince, “Peace, Greenleaf.”

“Do not start,” Elladan warned the laegel with a relieved smile upon his face and tears in his eyes.

With the addition of the twins’ ready clemency, Legolas relaxed further into Aragorn’s hold, as if with each pardon of his actions the Elf’s sorrow was relieved incrementally. Finally, Legolas sat up and removed his arms from around the Ranger, and though he was loath to let go, Estel helped the Wood-Elf into moving so that he could see those around him. A moment later, Erestor sat down upon the bed near to Legolas. Having gone for so long without being near his lover – though truly, it had only been a few days – Estel was not ready to relinquish the Wood-Elf to anyone else. It seemed that Legolas felt the same. When Erestor moved closer to try to gain the laegel’s attention, the Prince twisted his head to look at the councilor but did not extract himself from Aragorn’s limbs. He remained seated between the Ranger’s sprawled legs, his hip wedged in the man’s groin, though he moved his legs so that they hung over the side of the bed. When Aragorn tried to remove his own leg from atop the Prince’s legs, Legolas grabbed hold of the human’s limb and held tight to it with one arm to keep it resting atop his own, while with the other he sought out the man’s hand.

Happily, the human let Legolas do what he liked, just so long as he could stay near the Prince. Several months ago, the Adan might have felt embarrassed to be so blatantly affectionate to the Prince in front of anyone – even his father and brothers. It was not shame over his love for Legolas that had caused him embarrassment – not at all. The human had never had a lover before the laegel and had not known how to act with one. Right now, Estel didn’t care if anyone in the room was perturbed at the easy affection he shared with Legolas; the Ranger was so exhilarated to be allowed to touch the Wood-Elf that Estel feared to quit lest the Prince allow it no longer.

“I am overjoyed to see you awake, Prince Legolas,” the councilor told the laegel. Everyone in the room was gathered on the side of the bed that Legolas faced, which was the side where the couch was, and so Elrond and Thranduil sat while the twins stood nearby.

Although he had been fetched to bring details to Thranduil of the periapt, Erestor thought now to tell Legolas of the stone. To Thranduil and Elrond the councilor asked simply, “Shall I?”

The Peredhel and Elvenking nodded their assent and Erestor began.

“Prince Legolas, I hope that you do not blame yourself for anything that has occurred over the last few days,” Erestor told the laegel gently. Although the advisor was not as close to the Prince as Elrond and his sons, Erestor had also known Legolas since he was an Elfling, had even been part of the Prince’s education during the times he had spent in Imladris when younger, and cared for the Wood-Elf as he did Elrond’s sons. “What do you remember?”

Estel could not feel the seizing grip of sorrow that took hold of the laegel at that moment, but when Legolas let loose Aragorn’s hand to rub the center of his chest, just where his heart lay, he knew that the Prince was no less in despair now that he was free of Mithfindl’s suasion than when he was still swayed by it. And this reaction came only from the allusion to Mithfindl. Legolas hung his head and stared down at the Ranger’s knee, which was bent over the Prince’s thighs. Distractedly, the laegel used the hand that he was not holding against his chest to smooth over Estel’s leg. “Everything. I remember everything.”

As horrible as the memories must be for Legolas, to everyone else it was wonderful news to know that the Prince’s memory had returned. Erestor told the laegel, “Then you know more than we do.”

He felt his lover stiffen at this. _He does not want to tell this tale and nor should he have to._ However, if Legolas ever had to speak of this to them, now would be the time, when his faer was chained to his rhaw through Thranduil’s magic.

No one asked Legolas to tell them what he knew but the Elf began anyway, saying, “I know that it was Mithfindl. I know that the night of the feast, he came into Ada’s rooms with a bottle of wine to share.” Although they had all speculated of what had happened, they would now know the truth of it. Legolas slipped his hand up and down the Ranger’s shin absentmindedly. “I had not told my King about Mithfindl assaulting me in the woods this spring, so to keep that knowledge from him and seeing that my father had already met and shared wine with Mithfindl, I did not protest his being there.”

Estel watched Thranduil’s face while Legolas spoke; the Elvenking’s visage was becoming guarded and hard. Thranduil had not had cause to suspect Mithfindl of any ill will upon their way into the valley. Mithfindl had been ingratiating himself to the Elf-King, certainly, but Thranduil had likely grown accustomed to that and probably even expected it. _It is no more Thranduil’s fault than Legolas’ fault, but it would be a wonder to see the King feel guilty over what has happened rather than casting all culpability onto the Prince._

“Mithfindl’s wine was drugged. You passed out,” he told his father, his heading quickly snapping up to face the King as he spoke to him, which over the years was what Thranduil had beaten into the laegel to do while addressing his sovereign. “I carried you to bed. The rest of the night is hazy. It must be the milk of the poppy.”

Kalin recalled the locks of hair that Estel had been found to have kept in his pocket and so asked, “He yanked the crown from off your head? He beat you, did he not? That’s from where the bruises that Estel saw upon you came?”

“Yes. I had drunk some of the wine, as well, thinking to pass the time until Mithfindl could be asked to leave. But once Ada was unconscious, Mithfindl held me down and forced me to drink the poppy tincture. I tried to spit it out but he choked me until I could not help but to swallow and he hit me to subdue me when I tried to fight him. I recognized the taste of what he’d given me and realized we’d been poisoned. Between the medicines and the beating he gave me, Mithfindl found me an easy target for his lust and hate. He told me that we would finish what he started in the woods this spring.” Mithfindl had kept his word – he had finished what he’d started in the woods and much more.

Legolas had begun to tremble again. Estel felt his own pang of grief at seeing the once proud Silvan Prince so dismayed. “He tied something in my hair. Something flat and shiny. I was too foolish and realized too late what was happening,” the Prince lamented in a voice no louder than the soughing breeze outside. Horrified, the laegel looked to Elrond and Thranduil where they sat upon the couch, imploring of them, “Forgive me, Ada, but I have only just remembered that he said that he gave one to you, also.”

“He did,” the King assuaged his broken son. Thranduil sifted his hand through the hair at the back of his head, from where the Peredhel had removed the stone. “And Elrond has since removed it. I don’t believe he ever had the chance to use it, though perhaps the night of the feast was when he intended to try. Once he had you in his grasp, he had no use for me.”

“Then I am glad that I walked you to your rooms because he’d had no intention of putting a stone upon me until seeing me that night, or so he later said.” The Prince turned his attention back to his lap and the man’s leg thereon, saying to his King, “I am glad that he used me for his purposes instead of you, Ada. This is all my fault, anyway, so it is better that I suffered his attentions than anyone else. Still, I have failed you all, since Galendil was nearly killed, and I have caused discord between our kith and Minyatar’s kith. I let my King be poisoned; I let Mithfindl enthrall me. It is my feeble will that allowed him the upper hand in the woods this spring, when he tried to force himself upon me; my refusal humiliated him and fomented his desire for revenge,” the laegel explained to his confounded audience, his voice growing softer as his disgrace grew.

For the first time in several minutes, Legolas turned to look at Estel, and then gave him a troubled smile. What the Ranger saw on the Elf’s face was foreign to him, for he had never seen his Greenleaf so full of hatred for himself, not even after all that Legolas had been through the last year. “I have been pathetic and irresponsible, so I am glad that I have paid the greater price for it. I only wish that he had killed me that night so that none of the rest of this would have happened. No one would have been hurt, especially you,” the laegel told his human lover. The Prince’s smile faded and his face crumpled, his eyes snapped shut to block out the sight of the human, whose shirt was stained with his own blood and Legolas’ essence, as well. Again, the laegel begged Estel for forgiveness, hugging tight to Aragorn’s leg as he pled, “Goheno nin, meleth nin. I am sorry. Please do not hate me.”

“Legolas,” the King snarled loudly, his exasperation startling all in the room and interrupting the Ranger before he could end the Prince’s desperate attempts to earn pardon. Legolas opened his eyes and by instinct looked to his King to avoid displeasing his father any further, while the hand upon Estel’s leg constricted into an unintentionally bruising hold as the Prince prepared for his father’s wrath. But the Elvenking was not angry: he moved forward in his seat as though prepared to rise from it. “You had no cause to believe that this vile Mithfindl would do such a reprehensible thing,” Thranduil told his progeny gently. “Nor did I. If he was vile enough to seek revenge for your having turned away his unwanted attention, then his mind was clouded with evil long before you refused him, or before Estel broke his nose,” the King rationalized.

Thranduil’s change of attitude was perplexing to Legolas, it seemed, for he had expected his father’s fury instead of his compassion. Erestor’s next words only seemed to befuddle Legolas more when he began to illuminate the laegel, “The stone he showed you, that he put upon you, is a periapt. It was meant to aid in the training of horses. Mithfindl had to use the poppy to subdue your sensible thought so that he could use the stone to bend your will to his, Legolas. Whatever he asked of you to do, you were bound by sorcery to complete.”

“Which is why you blamed Estel for attacking your father.” Elrohir came closer to the bed when he saw that the Prince once more had taken to pressing his chest roughly, as if to keep his broken heart beating. Being that Erestor sat close to Legolas, the younger twin settled for crouching on the floor before the Wood-Elf so that he could look into Legolas’ downturned face, his hand upon the Prince’s knee. “And why you met him in the storage room. Why you thought that it was Estel you were meeting. Isn’t that so, Greenleaf?”

“It is why you did not fight or try to kill your attacker, isn’t it? Because you thought it was Estel and did not want to harm him?” Elladan continued before the laegel could answer. He came to the Prince and knelt before the bed to place his hand upon the other of the Silvan’s knees. “And Mithfindl told you not to tell anyone, that he would kill your father, and that you had to make the King and his retinue leave once the King awoke?”

Legolas’ calm breathing had once more become ragged and wispy. _We cannot continue this inquisition. Whatever it is that they wish to know or point out to him, it ought to be done later or never at all._ He had seen his Elven lover endure torment of the mind and body that he himself would have died from or wished to die from – to make Legolas relive the details was cruelty. The Ranger would put a stop to it soon if no one else did. But he knew why they wanted to know what Legolas remembered – they wanted to be certain that the Prince no longer blamed Estel so that they would know the human was no longer in danger from the laegel having been commanded to kill him, or from misguidedly believing Estel to have had some part in his torment. Knowing this would also assure them that there existed no other hidden motives in the Prince’s mind.

When the Wood-Elf’s shoulders hunched forward, his whole body seeming to draw in upon itself, the human in question reached out and laid his hand upon Legolas’ back, his fingers sifting through the plait of the Silvan’s hair and pulling it free. Coated with the blood that had run from his scalp, a wound that had only just now stopped its weeping, the Elf’s flaxen tresses were sticky, but the Ranger paid no mind. He thought only to comfort the Prince.

 _Another shirt is ruined,_ he decided as he plucked the gummy mess off the back of the laegel’s tunic, where it was stuck to the blood soaked fabric. _Maybe I should have checked to ensure that he needed no stitches or that Thranduil did not cut too deep._ He would go about ascertaining the severity of the wound right now but he worried that he might come into contact with the new periapt by accident.

Legolas had not yet answered the somewhat rhetorical questions that the twins had asked him. Finally, Estel prompted his lover with a loving squeeze of the tight muscles of the laegel’s upper back, saying, “Greenleaf?”

His head still down, Legolas nodded with a mournful sigh. “Everything you say is true. Mithfindl told me that he was Estel.” The laegel began to outright shudder. As if their dark heads were attached to the same neck, Elladan and Elrohir swiveled around to look to their father, who shook his own dark head at them to dismiss their worry, though they did not understand why their Ada was not as concerned as were they. They were causing Legolas to recollect the first time that Mithfindl had raped him. Neither the twins nor Erestor knew that Thranduil had placed an imprecated stone upon the laegel, so when the three saw Legolas’ reaction, they feared for him. Certainly, Estel could not feel it as did the Elves, but from all of their reactions to Legolas’ fluttering breath, jerky muscles, and the resumption of his massaging the ache in the middle of his chest, he knew that Legolas was not faring well at all.

 _We should end this now._ The Ranger scooted forward on the bed. Since the Wood-Elf was already wedged between his thighs, Aragorn simply shifted to imitate the Silvan’s posture – he swept his leg off the laegel’s legs, swung his other leg around, and soon was seated on the edge of the bed with his own feet upon the ground, except that Legolas was still snugly ensconced between the human’s thighs, and now Legolas’ blood-soaked back was aligned with the Ranger’s front. He wrapped his arms around the Silvan’s waist and pressed forward to embrace the Wood-Elf as tightly as possible, settling his chin upon the Prince’s shoulder. In return, Legolas hugged the man’s arms to him and rested the side of his head against Estel’s head. He could get no closer to the Prince, but luckily, this increased contact finally quelled the Wood-Elf’s shudders and his breathing began to even out again. Aragorn did not know if the scar spoke to Legolas, but he prayed to Varda that the laegel was hearing nothing from the maleficent embodiment of his grief. _They need to know nothing else but that he knows the truth. If Thranduil’s will did not now keep him alive, Legolas would have died after the first couple of questions._

“I believed him,” the laegel told them. The Prince’s broken fingernails were digging unknowingly into the flesh of Aragorn’s forearm but the human did not care. “He knew what few could know. He knew what the merchants said to me, what they did to me.”

From where he’d been standing unobtrusively by the mantel, Kalin cleared his throat to get his Prince’s attention. This whole time, Kalin had been silent, but he’d been weeping. The faithful sentry was wringing his hands as he admitted his own unwilling part in the laegel’s torment. “I am sorry. I would never have willingly told Faelthîr anything that you told me in confidence, my Prince, but –”

“I know,” the Prince interrupted his sentry. “I know now.” A violent tremor ran up the Prince’s body, starting with his feet, running along his legs to his hips, and then jerking the whole of the Elf’s torso. Aragorn responded by bettering his hold of the Silvan. “I was there, tied to a column in the room under the stairs, half unclothed and unable to move, when Faelthîr came in and told Mithfindl that she had drugged you, Kalin, to learn what she could to use against me, against Estel. I could do nothing but listen and then forget. I have been useless to stop any of this.”

Elrond could take no more of sitting on the couch and watching the Wood-Elf suffer. Despite that he was already surrounded by his friends and lover, Elrond came to the bed and stood behind where the twins knelt on the floor. He reached out and tilted the Prince’s head up so that he would look at him. “You fought Mithfindl’s hold, though, did you not?” the Peredhel warmly told the laegel. “Mithfindl told you to kill Estel. Do you remember that?” His chin still in Elrond’s hand, Legolas nodded at his Minyatar and the elder Elf continued, “Even though you were ensorcelled to his will, when you were overwhelmed with anger, still believing that Estel was the one to have hurt you, you fought the utter sway of the periapt and kept yourself from killing Estel.”

“Then I have not been a complete fool, just most of one,” the disgraced Prince bemoaned.

The human was quite sure that he could listen to no more of this, even if the Prince was willing to continue telling them. Watching his lover in the paroxysmal fits that accompanied an Elven faer’s departure from rhaw was too much for Aragorn. “Enough,” he told them. “Must we revisit every moment of Greenleaf’s suffering?”

Legolas leant back against the human, for his jerking muscles had moved him away and much like Estel, the Prince wanted as much contact as possible with his lover. Quietly, he asked Estel, “Why should we not talk about it? After the trouble I have caused the least I can do is explain how I let it happen.” And then, so quietly that even though his ear was only inches from the Wood-Elf’s mouth the Ranger could barely hear it, Legolas warned them, “It is best to tell you all now, while I can.”

He could not lie and tell the Prince that he would not die, but nor could he simply accept that the laegel intended to die. _It has been only hours since last he was defiled. It took months for Legolas to feel better after the merchants._ Still, they did not have months to wait. Elrond would have his way soon, Estel knew, and the new stone removed. If they did not soothe the Prince before then, the laegel would be proven right.

Erestor stood from the bed to allow Elrond to sit beside the Wood-Elf, which he did and took the laegel’s hand in his own. The advisor went to the mantel and reached for the box of periapts – perhaps to show Legolas the contents – but Kalin quickly halted this idea before Legolas had noted what the councilor was doing. Wordlessly, Kalin placed his hand over the box and shook his head. The advisor, who now appeared much more troubled than before, lost the thread of thought that he’d been following in his attempt to explain the stones to Legolas.

Once he’d collected himself, Erestor argued to placate the ailing Wood-Elf, “You caused no trouble, Legolas. None. It was the stone. It was Mithfindl. All of it. If he told you that he was Estel, you could have believed nothing else. Truly, Prince, you were a puppet to his whims, which does not alleviate the agony of being abused, I know, but you must understand that none of it was your fault. The periapts are absolute in power. Once Mithfindl drugged you to dampen your inhibition, he could plant his commands without fear of their extirpation, short of the stone being removed.”

“It is removed now, is it not?” The Wood-Elf Prince faced his father now to ask, “That is what you did with the knife? You removed the periapt?” When Thranduil nodded, offering no more information lest somehow he give away that he had not just removed a stone but placed another, Legolas worried aloud, “So then I am of no more danger to anyone? None of his commands hold power over me any longer?”

“No, they should not,” Elrond assured the laegel but then, as if fearing that Legolas would tell them otherwise, queried, “Why, Greenleaf? Have you felt compelled in some way to follow his directions?”

Rather than answer his Minyatar, Prince instead reiterated, “When he told me to kill Estel, Mithfindl also told me that I was not allowed to die.” Hopelessly, the Ranger’s lover beseeched those around him, the Elves and human whom he loved, some of whom had betrayed him this day, “If the stone is gone, and his will gone, as well, then why can I not die?”

 _I cannot do this,_ the Ranger decided. He moved away from the laegel. Scooting back upon the mattress, Estel extricated his legs from around the Prince and swung them over to the other side of the bed. _I cannot do this. I cannot sit here and listen to him wish for a death that we have denied him._ Hot and sour tears were beginning to gather in the human’s eyes. His lover may have been the victim of Mithfindl hateful attentions, but he was not the only one suffering, and Estel could tolerate this no longer.

“Estel?” his father asked him, but Aragorn did not answer. As he crawled from the bed, the Ranger saw his twin brothers rise from the floor, likely to come to him, but he held out his hand to try to stave off their concern. 

He looked to Elrond, whom he had always loved as a father, to the twins whom he loved as his brothers, and to the Wood-Elf with whom he’d hoped to spend the rest of his life. While his family stared at him with worry, Kalin looked at the Adan with fearful anxiety, as the sentry could clearly see that Aragorn intended to leave, which meant that his Prince would lose the only tether that kept him from drifting out into the depths of his grief. Aragorn wiped the moisture from his face with the intent to tell them that he would return, but as he glanced at Thranduil, the Ranger saw the betrayal upon the King’s face and lost the words he’d meant to say. The King had extended his trust to Estel, had told the human that he believed the Ranger would not leave his son to wither and die, and yet, Aragorn was ostensibly preparing to do just that.

“Estel,” his father said again, this time with more worry but also more crossness.

Elrond had moved from where’d been sitting on the bed so that he was huddled directly by the Prince, his arms wrapped around the laegel with Legolas pulled into him, although the Prince did not return the embrace. He had done that to Legolas. All it had taken was for him to let go of the Wood-Elf for Legolas to be back to his broken and shivering state. All he had done was stand up from the bed. However, all in the room were staring at him as if he were the cause of the Silvan’s condition instead of the antidote.

 _Kalin was right. Legolas wishes to fade. No matter what I do, what any of us does, he will wish to fade._ Even now, the Elf was floundering without the palliative presence of the Ranger. Aragorn had told Kalin that they ought to let Legolas know the truth of the last few days before removing the stone, but the Ranger had thought that once his Greenleaf knew that Estel was innocent and that he’d had no choice in his own actions, that Legolas would want to fight against his grief – that he’d want to live.

_What life is there for him if it will be spent in fear? In self-loathing?_

The human was overwhelmed. For three days, he had done nothing but worry about his Elven lover. He had not eaten a proper meal, he had not slept properly, he had not bathed nor washed his face – all of Estel’s existence had been focused upon Legolas. He would never give up on the Wood-Elf, not even now upon hearing Legolas blatantly tell them that he wanted to die, that he was trying to die. He would also never ask the laegel to live just for him; wish though he might that the Prince would, he had firsthand experience in the dire consequences of Legolas living only for another, since the laegel had done that very thing after the Elf and Ranger were attacked in the forest around Lake-town. Faced with the realization that the Prince did not wish to fight, that he still only wished to die, Estel had reached his limit.

“Where are you going?” his Ada asked him.

He could think of nothing else to say. The Ranger shook his head at his father’s question. With that and ere they could inquire further, the Ranger left the room.


	52. Chapter 52

Since the twins did not yet know that Thranduil had placed his son under his own will by a second periapt, they feared that Aragorn’s departure might negatively affect the Prince, should Legolas believe that his lover had suddenly given up on him. However, the laegel knew why the Ranger had left, even if his friends and his father stared in vexed wonderment at the door from which Aragorn had just exited the room.

His Minyatar had an unrelenting, fond grip upon him; Elrond’s arms encircled the Wood-Elf just as securely as had the Adan’s arms ere he left. Elrond promised, “He will be back, Greenleaf.”

Legolas nodded his head, which rested upon his Minyatar’s shoulder. _I have upset Estel. I only continue to upset him._

As if it was his place to apologize for their human brother, Elladan told the Prince, “Forgive him. He is overwhelmed.”

Elrohir said only a second later, “Give him a moment to gather himself.”

Legolas was more than a little overwhelmed, as well. With weariness, the Prince watched his father rise from the couch and come to the bed to sit on the opposite side as Elrond. The twins were still perched in the floor in front of him with their hands upon his knees, and now his father added his own hands by reaching out to grab the Silvan Prince’s forearm. The Elf-King told his progeny, “It is not easy to hear one’s lover wishing to die. Nor is it easy to hear one’s son wish it, for that matter.”

His father spoke from experience on both counts. The Queen of Eryn Galen had not merely wished for death, she had yearned for it until that craving was satisfied with her eager demise. And now, Thranduil had to listen to his son speak just as his wife had spoken in longing to die. His King told him, “Estel has done everything in his power these past few days to ensure that you were safe and that the true culprit and scheme behind your torment was discovered. To have worked so hard in hopes to save you and now to hear you wish for death… well, you have been on the cusp of death repeatedly the last few days, whether from injury or from sorrow, and each time you have refrained from succumbing. I suppose now that your body is nearly healed and your mind freed, he expected that you would fight to live.”

It was odd to hear his father call Estel by his name, rather than by some vague epithet. It was odder still to hear his father defend the Ranger to Legolas, when normally it was the Prince’s place to defend Aragorn to the Elvenking. The King had deduced the exact thinking and reasoning behind the Ranger’s actions, though the Prince had determined most of this for himself. Had Estel heard their surmises, he would have been surprised at how easily read were his thoughts.

When the Prince did not answer, the King added, “Do not be angered with Estel, ion nin.”

The laegel tried to push away the gnawing sorrow that was consuming his desire to remain amongst them. “I do not feel anger,” he told them truthfully. “I feel anger towards none of you, although I know that you must all be infuriated with me – if you do not hate me. I cannot blame any of you, much less Estel, for your anger over the turmoil I have caused and the pain I have brought.”

“Greenleaf! Did you not listen to what any of us has said?” Elrohir whispered vehemently before pushing between where Elrond and Legolas’ legs laid flush so that he could try to reach the Wood-Elf. On the other side of the bed, Elladan was also trying to reach the laegel by sliding between Thranduil’s leg and the Prince’s leg. Soon, the twins had their arms around him just as tightly as had the Ranger, having pulled the Wood-Elf away from their father and the King so that they could offer comfort to their Silvan brother. Elladan continued to the Prince, “No one would have been able to fend the hold of the periapt placed upon you.”

Not willing to let the matter go so easily, since he had also used the stone, albeit unwittingly, Elrond asked the Prince, “You do not feel the need for retaliation against anyone who used the periapt? I am sorry that I did, Greenleaf, but I did not know where it was tied upon you when I asked you to come to the apothecary with me.”

He would be lying if he said that he did not wish he could torture Mithfindl slowly, but Legolas had no wish to think of the Noldorin warrior and so did not include him when he assured his Minyatar, “I feel no anger over it and most certainly not for you, I promise. You only told me to come to the apothecary. I trust you would never use the stone for devious purposes,” he told his Minyatar. He did not remember his father using the stone, of course, so then could only convince them about the Adan having implemented it, “And Estel used it this dawn only to calm me. I cannot be angry that he did so. I was acting shamefully,” he eluded while hoping either that they knew enough already of what he’d attempted to do that morning in trying to gain more time for his father’s safe departure or that they would not ask him for details.

Apparently, the Ranger had not admitted to anyone that he had also used the periapt to influence Legolas. Elrond became disquieted with anger, but with the return of his memory, Legolas recalled vividly the events that had led to Estel being forced to use the stone and he told his Minyatar, “Estel did what he felt necessary to keep me from despair. I hold no grudge,” he said, hoping that Elrond would take the hint and hold no complaint against the Ranger, either.

The Peredhel did not appear appeased. He looked over Legolas’ head and to Thranduil when he said, “It is no one’s place to subdue your will, Greenleaf, even if he believes it is in your best interest.”

Thinking that his Minyatar and father were sharing their fury for Estel, when in fact Elrond was showing Thranduil his rage for the King’s actions, the laegel wanted to mollify their resentment and so gave them details of this morning’s dawn that he would just as soon not relive. “I went to Estel’s room to beg for more time to convince my father and our kith to leave the valley. So desperate was I that I tried to seduce Estel into hurting me as I thought he had done before, as I thought he desired to do. When I would not stop speaking of ways in which he could torment me, when without hurting me he could not force me to cease trying to gratify him, he used the periapt.” 

Legolas watched Kalin while he told them this, as the sentry was the only one who stood before him but was not gathered around him, as were his father, Elrond, and the Noldorin twins. The sentry had left his Prince alone only because the Prince had promised that he would lock the door behind him. Instead, the laegel had lied to his sentry and sought out more excruciation. Rather than infuriation at being lied to, though, the sentry seemed dejected, as his Prince had once more left him out of his confidence. Over the last few days, whether by his own actions or his subjugated actions, Legolas had alienated and aggrieved every person that he loved; his living was only the promise of more.

His Minyatar inhaled sharply as if drawing in a breath to begin a rant; seeing that the elder Elf would argue with him, Legolas assured his listeners, “Estel only reminded me to trust him and told me that he had not and would not hurt me. If he had not by chance used the stone this dawn, I might have died from misery this morning already.” His thoughts turning to the intense headache that had plagued him afterwards, the laegel pondered aloud, “His using the stone hurt. I knew that he was guilty and knew that he was not. I trusted him one moment and none at all the next.” As he waited for those in the room to digest this information, their annoyance at Aragorn lessening but their worry for Legolas growing, he told his onlookers, his voice becoming softer with the recollection of his shame, “In fact, I fear that had not Estel used the stone and implanted the reminder that I love and trust him, I might have been unable to stop myself from killing him.”

Once more, the Prince felt the familiar, piercing pang of agony rip through him. He was trying not to upset his loved ones further but he could not keep from grabbing at his chest and then pushing at the intense, deadly mourning that weighed upon him. He might as well have had a mûmak sitting on him, so heavy did this burden of guilt and shame feel. His father’s grip upon his forearm tautened in response to sensing this renewed deleteriousness. Even though Estel had forgiven the Prince – in words, at least – the Wood-Elf had not yet forgiven himself for trying to kill his lover.

Before he realized that he still thought aloud, the laegel was telling them, “I have never felt more indignity, dread, or regret. I have never been as revolted by myself and my actions, nor desired death so greatly.” Legolas realized what he’d just confessed – the depths of his faer’s desire to flee his rhaw – but this did not stop him from his curious inquiry, for they had not answered his question from earlier and so he asked again, “I do not understand. Why am I not dead?”

He watched his Minyatar draw his shoulders back and his brow furrow, his lips thinned into a grimace as he thought of how to answer this question; but in the end, it was his father who responded to the laegel, “Because you promised me, my son.” Thranduil reached out and swept the hair away from the Prince’s face and then kept his hand upon Legolas’ shoulder while he said, “Because your will to live is stronger than Mithfindl’s will to complete his revenge, to cause you to die.”

This explanation might have made sense; yet, for a brief moment after his father had removed the stone Mithfindl had placed upon him, Legolas had felt like he could die. That freedom was now gone. Just as his father had answered, the King had told Legolas after removing the periapt that he could not die, that he must live, and now, here he was, doing just as he had been bid although he had never actually promised his father these things and though his faer would have already fled his rhaw otherwise. Legolas could only believe that it was for his father and because of his own strength of will that he breathed still, long though he did for death.

“I think I should like to rest,” he told them in the hopes that they would believe him and let him be for a while. He needed to think and could not form a coherent thought with them all gathered around him with such frightened anticipation upon their faces.

Now that they were certain that Legolas knew the truth and that he held no lingering suspicion or ire, his family and friends were content to quit their questioning. Being that Elrond and Thranduil knew that Legolas could not fade, they were satisfied that leaving him would not cause his demise, and though neither the twins nor Erestor knew of Thranduil’s use of the stone, the readiness for Elrond and Thranduil to allow the Wood-Elf Prince this request evinced to them that the laegel was well enough to be left alone.

“If you have need of anything,” Erestor said while looking to Legolas but truly speaking to everyone in the room, “then you’ve only to find me. I will be helping Glorfindel concert his efforts in the search.” With a gentle smile, the councilor left to do what he could to aid Legolas by facilitating the capture of his attacker.

Actually, they all had tasks that they wished to see completed. The twins wanted to join the efforts in finding Mithfindl, Elrond wanted to speak to Thranduil, and Thranduil wanted to find Estel and throttle him for seemingly betraying his son. They might have all been willing to leave, had Estel still been in the room to stay with the Prince. All of them were willing to remain and keep the Prince company, but none felt that he was the one that would calm the sorrowed laegel the best – Estel was the natural choice for this. Legolas had turned to Estel time and time again to soothe his grieving faer. As it was, without the human to watch over the Silvan, the one most adept, willing, and who had been beside the laegel without fail through the last few days now took upon himself the task to stay with the grieving Wood-Elf.

“My Prince needs rest. I will be here with him. Go on, then,” Kalin ordered Elrond, the twins, and Thranduil, and though he did so genially enough, the King took umbrage immediately.

Thranduil stood from the bed to warn Kalin, “I am not accustomed to taking orders from a sentry, nor do I plan to grow accustomed to it.”

“You have told me, King Thranduil, that I am in your service no longer. But I serve Legolas still,” Kalin told Thranduil with a quiet dignity. The Prince had forgotten about Kalin and the Elvenking arguing earlier; he had not been aware then of what they argued about and did not know now. Although Legolas hadn’t any idea behind the meaning of Kalin’s words, he wondered about the strange animosity between the sentry and King when Kalin told Thranduil, “One day. Until sunset on the morrow. That is as long as I will allow it to remain.”

Bewildered but too tired to care and not wanting to restart the argument from earlier, as he was desirous for slumber and privacy, Legolas only watched as his father scowled at Kalin before eventually nodding his agreement. Thranduil turned to his son where he sat upon the bed. The ire fell from the King’s face as he looked at Legolas, who the Elf-King was gladdened to see living for now. “I will return in a few hours’ time to check on you.”

With that, the King strode from the room, with Elrond soon on his heels, saying to Legolas as he went, “Greenleaf, send Kalin for me if you have need of anything. Promise me.”

He barely had the time to promise his Minyatar before the Peredhel was gone in the wake of the Elvenking. Elladan and Elrohir shifted so that they sat beside him on the bed, a twin on either side, and then the two Noldor put their arms around him – Elladan’s arm around his waist and Elrohir’s around his shoulders. The elder twin asked Kalin, “What in the name of Ilúvatar was all that about?”

But Kalin could not answer, not with Legolas sitting there listening, and so he told the twin, “I suggest you take part in the conversation your father will soon have with Thranduil if you wish to know.”

Above Legolas’ head, the twins looked to each other for a moment, needing no words to express their thoughts, until Elladan said, “It will have to wait. We are going to meet up with Glorfindel, to see what we can do to help find Mithfindl.”

At the mention of the Noldo’s name, the laegel felt his body constricting, his anxiety returning. But then, Elrohir’s hold upon the Prince stiffened briefly as he leant his forehead against the Wood-Elf’s temple, and the rising dread lessened. “Do as you’ve said, Greenleaf, and get some rest. I promise you that he will be found and punished, even if it takes the rest of our days.”

Simultaneously, the Noldorin twins released him, stood from the bed, and made their way to the door. To Kalin, Elladan requested ere he and his brother walked out, “Take care of him, please, Kalin.”

The sentry nodded; although truly the twins needed no pledge from Kalin that he would care for his beloved Prince. As he opened the portal, letting his twin go through first, Elrohir added to Legolas in a final assertion, “Estel will come back.”

And then, the twins shut the door behind them and all of his friends and family were gone. As keen as they had all been to stay, they had all seemed equally eager to leave. _Only Kalin remains,_ he thought. His fellow Silvan was soon helping him into lying on the bed. Sorrow and grief often sapped the normally boundless energy from an Elf; right now, Legolas was beyond merely tired.

 _Estel will return,_ he guaranteed himself, just as Elrohir had told him, just as his Minyatar had told him.

He knew that the Ranger would not leave him. He had disappointed Aragorn by declaring his purposive capitulation to death. But as much as he did not deserve the human’s love, he had it regardless, and his Adan lover would return. And yet, the longing to have Estel beside him, rather than his sentry, made him restless. He twisted in the bed and tried to relax his body, although he knew that he would find no peace until the Ranger was beside him again.

Kalin sat in the chair nearby the bed, reached out, and took his Prince’s arm. With a sad smile that told Legolas that his sentry knew exactly what his Prince was thinking – as was his duty and one at which the sentry was highly adept – Kalin held tight to Legolas’ limb and soothed his charge, “I know I am not Estel, but I am here. Sleep, my Prince. I am here.”

Legolas smiled forlornly at his friend and said nothing; he closed his eyes in the hopes that he might be able to quit his exhausted, miserable existence for a short while in reverie.

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Aragorn had made it no farther than down the hall before he realized the folly of his having left the Wood-Elf. Slowly, he made his way to Legolas’ rooms once again, although several steps away from the Prince’s door, he stopped, leant his back against the wall, and slid down into sitting upon the hall floor. He was no less confused about what to do for Legolas than before when he’d left to have the solitude and time to cipher the matter. _He cannot truly wish to die. Legolas cannot give in so easily. After all that has happened, all that we have done to try to save him, still he wants to let his grief whelm his faer._

On the balcony of the Prince’s rooms in Eryn Galen, months ago when Aragorn had forced Legolas from his disconnection and compelled him into facing the sorrow that the Prince had tried to cast aside, Estel had thought himself prepared for his lover’s death. In fact, during those weeks of waiting to know if Legolas had faded, he had often consoled himself by thinking that the Prince’s death might have been a relief to his suffering Greenleaf. Now, the circumstances were similar in that Estel could not deny that for the Prince death might be the end of his desolation, but on the balcony that dawn those many months ago, the Ranger had felt that his lover had little to no choice in the matter. Clearly, Legolas had the choice now and seemed to have made it. Then, Legolas’ leg was hewn to the bone and his body had been on the brink of failing, anyway; now, his body and leg were mostly mended, so corporeal pain was not facilitating the laegel’s decision.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. _The twins or Ada will likely come find me before long._ His foster family would want to know why he had left Legolas. Indeed, no sooner had he thought this than the door swung open, but it was Erestor who walked out of the laegel’s chambers. The councilor noticed the Ranger right away but did not speak to him. Instead, his face set in a censorious frown that Estel felt certain he’d never seen upon Erestor’s face before – at least, not directed at him – Erestor turned on heel and walked the opposite direction down the hall. Aragorn thought to call out to Erestor, for the wise Elf would have council that Aragorn desperately needed right now; and yet, at seeing that Erestor was aggravated at him for shunning Legolas during his direst time of need, the human held his tongue.

Only a moment later, the door opened again and through it came the Elvenking. As Erestor had, Thranduil immediately detected that the Adan was sitting beside his son’s door. In fact, Thranduil’s face held the same judgment as did Erestor’s face, but instead of avoiding the human, the King strode the few steps directly to Estel, grabbed hold of the human’s tunic at his shoulder, and heaved the unprepared Ranger up from his seat upon the floor and into standing. He hissed quietly, “What is the matter with you, human?”

 _I am not Estel but only “human” once more,_ the Ranger thought with dismal amusement.

Thranduil’s hold was unforgiving and it gathered the neck of Aragorn’s tunic such that it was compressing his neck painfully, but the Adan did not try to get loose. The Elf-King pushed the complacent Ranger along the hall, farther from Legolas’ door, likely so that the Prince would not overhear. His quick, rough pace caused Estel to stumble, as the Elvenking was not kind in his violent guidance to a more discreet place in which to speak. Thranduil inveighed rancorously, “You prove me wrong already. I was prepared to give my blessing for the love between you and my son, and already you have abandoned him.”

“Thranduil.” From behind them, Elrond called out softly again, his tone brokering no room for argument as he told the King, “Release him at once.”

Surprisingly, Thranduil did just that. The Elf-King had not hurt Aragorn and honestly, the Ranger understood Thranduil’s anger. And so, as his foster father approached, livid and on the verge of letting the King know about how he felt to see the Elf-King assault his human foster son, Estel forfended their argument by telling his father, “Thranduil is right, Ada, and no harm is done.”

Again, the human rested his back against the wall and would have slid down it into sitting once more had not the King stepped closer to him in a menacing manner. Thranduil charged angrily, “Legolas desires your love and comfort above all others. Why do you let him wither without it?”

His chest aching in empathy for his lover’s burden of sorrow, the human told the King, “Because Greenleaf should be dead – because he wants to die.”

At the sound of the twins conversing as they exited Legolas’ room, Estel and the two Elves glanced down the hall to where the laegel’s chambers lay, although Thranduil had dragged him far enough that they were around the bend and in the part of the hall where the twins, Arwen, and Elrond’s rooms were located. It was obvious that Elladan and Elrohir went the opposite way down the corridor, towards the main part of the house and not towards them, because their quiet conversation waned until they could hear the two brothers no longer.

When Thranduil and Elrond turned back to him, Estel went on, saying, “Because I cannot sit there and watch him pine for death, knowing that he lives only because he has no choice.”

Thranduil’s anger lessened at the Ranger’s explanation, for the King felt the same as the Adan in most respects. Crossing his arms over his wide chest, the Elf-King returned to the other side of the hall, where he mimicked the Ranger’s position by leaning his back against the wall in a similar manner. “My son will not die.”

The Imladrian stood between the King and Ranger, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two as if he could not choose which to target for his rage. “Legolas will not die because you have subjugated his will just as Mithfindl has done,” Elrond interrupted in accusation.

However, Thranduil paid the Peredhel no mind and continued to the Ranger, “He knows the truth now. He is safe. His body is no longer broken beyond repair. He needs his friends and father beside him. But more importantly, he needs you beside him, Estel. You are the one who brought him from his grief before. You cannot despair or else he will despair. Every moment you spend away from him he spends wondering why you have abandoned him to suffer alone.”

His head falling to study the stone tiles underfoot, Estel admitted to the King, “Yes. I despair. It has been beyond difficult to keep pulling Legolas away from the scar, from his sorrow, from his shame and terror since he was attacked in the forest. I thought he was nearly healed. I thought he was well. He had not heard the voice of the scar. He had not tormented it. He was full of laughter and joy. And now this has happened. He is worse off than before, for at least then he wanted to live, while now he only wishes to die.”

Elrond was listening to all this, his anger simmering beneath his calm veneer, but Estel could see that his father agreed with the King, even if he did not appreciate the methods by which Thranduil had ascertained the Prince’s continuance. “Greenleaf wishes to fade because he is not yet certain that our forgiveness for his actions is true. He fears that you have not forgiven him for trying to kill you. He is ashamed of what he has allowed to happen and fears that we will turn away from him in disgust. He fears to be judged by those who do not know the truth behind the events of the past few days.” To Thranduil, Elrond explained patiently even though his eyes were still alight with ire, “And he fears that his father will do as he has done in the past – Greenleaf fears that his Ada will blame him for what has happened, will call him foul names and hurl accusations, instead of offering kindness and concern.”

Although he spared a sidelong glare at Elrond, Thranduil did not rise to the bait and argue with the Peredhel. Instead, he focused on Estel, who he saw as the only foundation on which the Prince might reconstruct his desire to live. “My son can survive his sorrow – he has done it before and he can do it again. What Elrond says may be true, but it is your forgiveness and acceptance that he now seeks above all others. Do not give up on Legolas.”

Stepping away from the wall, Aragorn squared his shoulders and shook his head in anger to have Thranduil question his devotion to the Prince, to lay the burden of Legolas’ welfare entirely on his shoulders. Estel would do whatever it takes to see his lover well again, but the success or failure of the endeavor laid in the Prince’s decision, not by the adroitness with which the Ranger could persuade the Wood-Elf’s will.

“I have not given up on him. I would never give up on him,” the Adan swore to his lover’s father, the King who had hated the man since almost the first time he’d met him because Thranduil had always feared the human’s influence over his son.

“Then go to him,” the King advised. He stepped across the hall and to Aragorn, placing a hand upon his shoulder and looking directly into the human’s eyes as he asked of the Ranger, “If you love my son as you say, then do as I bid. Go to him now. Our time is restricted.”

At the reminder of the periapt, Elrond warned, “Yes, your time is restricted.” The Peredhel’s eyes were nearly frothing like the sea foam that they resembled in color. And this ire was now aimed at Estel, for to Elrond it appeared as if the King and Ranger were in cahoots. Querulously, he queried of the human, “Did you have some part in placing the stone upon Greenleaf?”

So taken aback was Estel to be the object of his father’s indignation that he found himself wordless to explain. He had not been consulted before the stone was placed upon the Prince, but he had not argued against it, either, and did not wish to try to explain to his Ada the difference in these actions, for he knew that his father would see no difference at all. His acquiescence made him just as guilty, in Elrond’s thinking.

Before Aragorn had the chance to try to explain, the King wearily shook his head. He answered for Estel, “He did not. The decision was mine alone. Leave him be, Elrond. Let him go to Legolas. In the meanwhile, let us go discuss what next to do for my son. You can shout at me in private, if you must.”

With a great sigh for the Elvenking, Elrond straightened his robe about him as he tried to reorganize his thoughts and reign in his wayward emotions. “Fine. Let us go speak of this, but as Kalin has sworn I will swear to you, as well, Thranduil. I will not allow the stone to remain upon Greenleaf for any longer than sunset of tomorrow. And during the next day, it must not be used again for any reason.”

His irritation now diminished for the Ranger, Elrond told his human son, “Go to our Greenleaf. I do not agree with what Thranduil has done, but if it gives you time with Legolas, then make use of this time while you have it, for it is still likely that upon the periapt’s removal, Legolas will choose to let the light of his soul fade. Do what you can for him. Ease his faer, speak your piece, and say your goodbyes – just in case.” As he began walking away with Thranduil dutifully in tow as if he were a misbehaving child following the Peredhel to receive a lecture, Elrond tetchily demanded of the Elvenking, “Come.”

His purpose renewed, the Ranger watched his father and his lover’s father round the corner, on their way to the stairs, which they would climb to make their way to Elrond’s study. The Adan followed them a short distance so that he could look through the open door of Elrohir’s rooms. From the looks of the golden, diminishing daylight cascading in through the uncovered doors that led out to the pleasance – the very pleasance where Legolas had been beaten and raped nearly to death today – it was almost sunset now.

 _A little over a day. I have only a little over one day to convince Greenleaf to live,_ he ruminated as he walked back to Legolas’ door. _But Ada is right. If Greenleaf still wishes to die, I will not let another moment go by that I am not beside him.a_


	53. Chapter 53

With only one day to convince his lover to live, the Ranger considered a multitude of different things that he desired to tell the laegel. Amongst these, Aragorn intended to make sure that the Prince knew that he was forgiven for his perceived wrongdoings, while also trying to convince Legolas that he had done nothing wrong. He wanted his Greenleaf to understand that he wanted him to choose to live, to continue to fight against his grief, to stay amongst the forests, rivers, and mountains, amongst his family and friends, who loved him and did not hold against him any blame for what he had done or allowed to be done. He wanted the Wood-Elf to know that he loved him, no matter what he chose, and that Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond, his friends in the Greenwood, his father, and everyone else who cared about the Prince would all be well should he choose to pass. He had said many of these things on the balcony those months ago when forcing Legolas to choose between life and death – all of them needed repeating.

More importantly, he did not want to do as he had done before in letting Legolas live for him. He did not want to compel the Silvan Prince to live for anyone but himself. He did not want the Elf to die, of course, so he would say whatever it took – short of lying or saying anything that would guilt the Silvan into living – to remind Legolas of the joy and pleasure of life. He would be walking a fine line in saying all this, for the Prince did not know that he had a time limit as to when his cage would be opened and his faer able to flee. Letting the laegel know this would either enrage the Wood-Elf, thus causing tension between Thranduil and Thranduilion in the hours before the Prince’s potential demise, or it would only cause Legolas more sorrow to know that he had been subjugated by his father.

So many things did he reason of to say to the Prince that the human paused at the door to gather his thoughts. He did not want to overwhelm Legolas with some speech about how he should want to live, nor sound like he was begging the laegel to live, for it would only make the Silvan feel guilty for wanting to die. In the end, Aragorn could not blame Legolas for wishing for death. Had he experienced the many tribulations that the Silvan Prince had been subjected to, Estel would wish for death, as well. Not being one of the Firstborn, the Secondborn Ranger would only be able to wish it, rather than choose it, but he imagined that he might choose it had he the choice.

And yet, when he opened the door, by habit doing so without knocking or asking for entrance, all these thoughts, everything he had planned to say, and all of his tumultuous feelings over what to do in the next day were cast aside. Estel stepped inside the room, which was growing dim as the day wore on into night. Upon the bed, on top of the blankets, his body curled onto his side, Legolas laid in innocent repose. The sight of the Elf, his arm held by his sentry, as if the Silvan needed this small comfort as he tried to find rest, made Aragorn realize that there was likely nothing he could say or do to avoid the inevitable.

_He will die. Come tomorrow, when Kalin or my father removes the stone, Legolas will choose to die._

It was not despair that cemented this conclusion, for in fact, the Ranger felt a sorrowed tranquility at this realization. Legolas would fade, he would be at peace, his rhaw would no longer endure torment, his faer would no longer endure its sorrow, and in the end, death would be best for Legolas.

 _No,_ he railed against himself as he stood in the doorway, feeling selfish either way he looked at the situation. If he accepted the Elf’s death, he would be betraying his vow to Legolas to do what was best for him, and if he fought against the Elf’s death … well, he felt that he would be doing the same by not doing what was best for the Elf. _I cannot let him die. I will make him see that this is not his fault and that he can move beyond this as he has done before. He has more reason to endure now than he did after Kane, Sven, and Cort’s abuse. His father has changed; he is trying to be the father he ought to be. Greenleaf’s leg is completely healed – he need not worry any longer that he will be a burden to anyone or that he will never be as strong as he was before._ He needed to tell the Prince these things and so many more.

Estel gingerly ambled towards the bed in hopes of not waking the laegel upon it. From the moment that he had opened the door, Kalin had his eyes upon the Ranger, and those bright blue eyes had watched his silent cogitations in the doorway and now viewed as he stopped beside the bed to look at his lover, who slept the slumber of the blameless, like an Elfling never having known hardship or strife. The censure that Erestor and Thranduil had shown for Estel was absent in the sentry’s face. Just seeing the determination of Kalin’s expression, Estel knew, _Both of them will die. Legolas first and his sentry soon after._ It would not take but a few days at most before Kalin willingly left his body to rot whilst his faer fled to Námo, where he would no doubt continue to try to protect his Prince in the Halls of Awaiting. The thought made Aragorn smile, which caused Kalin to frown in return.

Quietly, so as not to disturb the Prince in question, Kalin inquired from where he sat in the chair beside the laegel’s bed, “What amuses you? I could use a reason to laugh this evening.”

He walked the last few steps until he came to stand beside Kalin’s chair. Legolas was facing his sentry, his eyes completely closed, his breathing inaudible and unfettered in simple Elven reverie. Estel was tempted to climb into the bed with the Elf. With only one day for the Prince to live, he would prefer to spend it with Legolas in his arms the entire time, if he could, since he imagined that he would never hold another lover after the Prince was gone.

He replied to the sentry, “I was thinking that Legolas will not want to live past tomorrow night.”

Shaking his head, Kalin confusedly asked the human, “And that made you smile?”

“No,” the Ranger admitted to the sentry, wondering if he should speak so morbidly, lest Kalin think he was mocking his devotement to Legolas, but in the end, he decided that the sentry would not take it ungraciously. “I was thinking that as much as you love your Prince, you will gladly follow him into the Halls of Waiting to make sure that he is protected and cared for there, much as you have cared for and protected him here.”

When Kalin only stared at him, Estel tried to explain further, “I didn’t smile because I was amused; I smiled because I was gladdened to think that Greenleaf would always have you as his protector, even beyond this worldly life. Although you must know,” he tried to hearten the sentry, “that Legolas will be upset if you follow him to the Halls of Mandos.”

This caused the sentry to smile for a moment, but then his gaze wandered back to his Prince, who had not so much as budged during their conversation, and his smile faltered. “I may follow him, should he choose to fade on the morrow, but not until after Mithfindl has been found and made to pay for what he has done to my Prince,” the sentry said with dour conviction, reminding the Ranger that Kalin would be just as glad to spend eternity seeking out Mithfindl to bring justice to his wronged Prince, just as the twins had promised, though unlike the twins, Kalin was prepared to fade after his purpose was served. “Are you so certain that he will want to die?”

Unable to refrain any longer, Estel gently sat on the edge of the bed, near to Legolas’ bent legs. He slid his hand over the Prince’s knee just to touch his lover, asking Kalin, “Yes. Are you not?”

Kalin adjusted his hold of the laegel by adding his second hand to the first, such that with his long fingers and wide splayed hands he held his fellow Silvan’s arm from wrist to elbow. He looked very much as though he thought by this hold that he could keep his Prince’s faer inside his rhaw. “I do not know. I only know that it should be his choice.”

Although not said with rancor, Kalin’s words were still a caveat to the human that the only reason he touched a warm, living knee instead of a cooling, dead carcass was that Thranduil had taken away from the Elf the Prince’s option of fading. “It will be his choice. As my father has just advised me, let us make use of this ill-gotten time to comfort him, and if nothing else, to say our goodbyes.”

They sat for a while in silence, each looking upon the Wood-Elf on the bed, who rested peacefully for now, but who would return to the bewailing torment of his mind and soul once awake. He shifted on the bed, his hand ever upon his lover’s leg, but the twisting of his torso caused him to grunt in discomfort when the wound to his stomach was disturbed. While not a dire wound, it was still painful.

“You look pale, Estel. You do not look well at all.” Kalin was eyeing the human with concern. “How long has it been since you have slept? Since you have eaten? Since you have bathed?”

“Are you implying that Estel stinks?” came Legolas’ sleepy voice from the bed.

The sting in his stomach immediately forgotten, as were the sentry’s questions, Estel scooted nearer to the Prince so that he could see the Silvan’s face.

“I likely do stink, my love,” he replied with a mournful grin, remembering a similar conversation the two had held the very first morning that Legolas woke beside Estel upon the Prince having returned to the valley to escape his father’s violence. “I have not bathed since the day of the feast.”

“I could use a real bath, as well. With hot water and plenty of soap. I haven’t had a good bath in several days either.” Legolas wore a faint smile. He blinked his eyes a few times before they focused upon the human seated beside him. “When last did you eat?”

It pleased the Ranger to have his lover worry over him, since to Estel it meant that the Elf was not holding any ill will towards the human. Although Legolas knew the truth of the events of the last few days, Aragorn still worried that the Wood-Elf might be repulsed by him – the human who the Prince once thought had defiled him. “I have eaten nothing much since the night you, my father, and I came to your rooms and had food brought to us.”

“Then we shall have to remedy that,” the Wood-Elf told him from where he laid upon the mattress. Kalin made as if to let go of his charge’s arm but the Silvan Prince reached out and held onto Kalin’s hand, saying, “In a moment, will you please call for food and then water for a bath? Enough water to have a real bath, that is. I am hungry, as the both of you must be, also, so have them send enough for us all.”

Kalin gave his liege a satisfied smile, which he then shared with Estel, who was just as thrilled to see that the laegel wanted to eat, to bathe, to carry on in the small tasks of life in which someone who had given up on living did not often have the energy or will to partake. “I will, my Prince,” he agreed though he did not yet stand to do so.

“This is the first time that I have awoken in many months without my thigh hurting,” Legolas told his sentry and the Ranger. His smile growing into a full grin, the Prince stretched upon the bed, arching his back felinely. The Silvan had only been asleep for less than an hour but it seemed to have refreshed him a great deal.

 _He doesn’t remember. For this brief moment, he doesn’t remember. But this good cheer will end the moment that he does recall what has happened,_ the human decided of his lover’s strange mood. So grateful was Estel that tears sprang to his eyes. He had thought that Legolas would die without his ever being able to see the Prince’s carefree smile again; temporary though this merriment may be, the Ranger intended to relish every moment of it.

But the Prince did remember. Estel knew this to be the case for the very next thing that the Prince said was, “Vilya and Minyatar healed my leg completely, Estel, when he healed the rest of me to keep me from dying. Did you see it? There are no scars any longer. It is as good as it was before it was gouged upon the broken tree limb.”

“No, I did not see it,” he replied. The Ranger spared a glance at the sentry, who seemed just as astounded as the human was at Legolas’ cheerful demeanor. He took this opportunity to facilitate the Elf’s desire to endure by telling him, “But that is good news to hear. You will be able to do all that you could before, my love. You need not worry that you will be slowed by it any longer.”

“We can go on our hunting trip,” the laegel said as he shifted so that he sat against the headboard. His smile lessening to a mere trace, Legolas quietly told Estel, “That is, if you still want to go hunting with me one day.”

Estel was startled to be asked. Not only was Legolas not wallowing in his grief, not refusing to eat, and not avoiding the Ranger, but also he was making plans for the future. It seemed a small thing, but Aragorn had expected tears, dire proclamations of despair and death, and misgivings – not this. “Of course I still wish to go. Whenever you want, we will go.”

When the Prince scooted to the edge of the bed to rise from it, Estel questioningly looked to Kalin. His first thought was that somehow someone had used the periapt upon the laegel to force this happiness, to deter Legolas away from his sorrow so that in the day before the stone’s removal the Elf would have contentment and peace. However, Legolas had not been joyful when Estel had left him a short while ago. Kalin had been with his Prince the entire time; the sentry would not have idly sat by while someone else used the imprecated stone to subdue his Prince’s will again and Kalin would never have done so himself, which meant that these were Legolas’ true feelings.

 _Surely, he would not make plans; he would not sit here smiling and relaxed if he still wishes to die._ But then, Legolas did not know that he could not fade, so once he could, Estel knew that the Prince might then seek an end to a greater sorrow than he felt even now, for he would have the added burden of his being enthralled to his father’s will.

“Kalin. Will you please leave us alone for a while?” he quietly asked his sentry, standing before where Kalin sat in stunned silence. “Find us some food, and bathwater, and can you ask Faidnil to find me some clothing from my father’s chests? I fear I have blood on every tunic and shirt I own. Ada’s clothing will be too big but I will make do.”

With uncertainty, the sentry arose from his chair, bowed to his Prince, and with an equally tentative smile, told Legolas, “I will.” The sentry hesitated for a moment before he placed his hand upon the laegel’s shoulder to implore him, “Please, my Prince. Do not go anywhere. At least, go nowhere without Estel and the sentries.”

The Ranger knew that the Prince had lied to his sentry by making similar promises over the last few days only to break them promptly; under the sway of the periapt though it had been, Legolas had only that morning sought out Estel for torment after giving his word to Kalin to remain in his rooms with the door locked.

“I promise you,” the remorseful Prince pledged, and then laid his own hand over his sentry’s hand where it rested on the laegel’s shoulder. “I will be right here when you come back.”

As he turned to leave, Kalin implored the Ranger, as well, although he did so silently. Estel knew just what assurance that the sentry wanted and so nodded slightly to the Wood-Elf in agreement. He would not leave Legolas alone.

Once Kalin was gone, Legolas walked from the bed to the balcony doors, where beyond the valley was darkening as the early eventide was turning into full night. Without preamble, the Wood-Elf began, “I had a dream while I was sleeping. About us. I dreamt that you and I were in the wilds, camped near a clear lake that teemed with fish. We lay on a blanket underneath the pendulous, swaying limbs of a weeping willow tree.”

Estel rose from the bed to stride to his lover. Legolas kept his eyes on the valley beyond his balcony but when the Ranger walked up behind him to wrap his arms around the Prince, the laegel sighed in ease. “We had a fire – over it was a haunch of venison from a deer that you had killed, its fat sizzling on the rocks of the fire pit we had made. There was no village, no settlement, and no road around for leagues. It was as if only you and I existed.” Giving the human a fleeting, wistful smile over his shoulder, the Elf went on, saying, “The dark of night was gentle, the moon full and bright in the mantle of sky overhead, and each star flickered down upon us, while we pleased each other in leisure, waiting for our dinner to cook.”

So vivid were the Elf’s words that the Ranger could close his eyes and see what the Prince had seen in his dream. He could smell the cooking meat, feel the breeze that caused the smoke to drift, and taste the sweet breath of the Elf’s mouth upon his own. Aragorn lowered his head to sit his chin upon the Prince’s shoulder. Legolas’ words described the very circumstance he’d hoped to revel in during their planned hunting trip, the trip that had been cancelled due to the King’s arrival in the valley. He told the Elf, “That sounds wonderful.”

“I wish that it weren’t a dream. I wish it were real.” Legolas hugged both the man’s arms to him and leant back into the Ranger’s body, resting his sinewy form fully into his lover’s broader, more muscled form. “I wish that we were there now. Anywhere but here. I wish we had gone on our hunting trip and that we had left before ever hearing that my father was coming to the valley. But then Mithfindl would have held my father under his persuasion instead of me, I suppose.”

“Greenleaf, if you wish it, we will leave this moment in search of such a place. A place where we can be alone with the woods, with the wildlife,” he suggested to the Wood-Elf, but warned him, “however, you must know that your father, your Minyatar, and the twins, not to mention all of your people and especially Kalin will be on our heels before we left the House, much less the valley.”

With a snort of dark mirth, the Prince agreed, “You are right. But I promised you that we would go on our hunting trip. And we will go. One day we will go, when all of this is over.”

He wanted to ask the Prince why he brought up this promise, why he felt that it was more important than the many other things of which they ought to be talking, but he loathed to ruin the serenity that the laegel was feeling. _Greenleaf speaks oddly. He speaks as if he were saying goodbye, although he has no clue that tomorrow he will find himself capable of leaving us._ The human had meant to say his own goodbyes, to find closure with the Elf, but Legolas was doing it instead.

They stood together for several long moments, enjoying the comfort that the other brought, until the Prince could take it no longer. He stepped away from the Ranger to turn around to face him. Tears were streaming down the Wood-Elf’s face. The human’s heart seemed to hitch, for the optimistic promises that the Elf had been making had been hiding his utmost sorrow, it seemed.

“I am sorry. I should have known that it was not you, Estel. I should have known. I was a fool,” Legolas inveighed, dropping his head so that he would not have to look at his lover. Aragorn placed a palm on either side of the Silvan’s face, his cheeks only faintly bruised now that Elrond had worked his magic upon the laegel. “But he knew what no one else would know. He knew just how to hurt me. What to say. I am sorry.”

Using his thumbs, the Ranger wiped away the stream of moisture that flooded down either side of the laegel’s cheeks. He brought the Elf’s face up so that Legolas would have to look at him, so that the Prince would know that the Ranger did not lie when he told him, “You believed him because you had no choice. Please, Greenleaf. Please do not blame yourself. Had I been the object of his sick fascination and had our roles been reversed, I would have believed that it was you who hurt me, just as you believed. No one blames you for any of this,” he swore to the Elf.

He feared to scare the Prince. Only this morning the Wood-Elf had been raped by Mithfindl. His body was healed, yes; however, even before Mithfindl the laegel’s faer had been an open wound that had been once more torn asunder and now would fester and ache until time slowly healed it again – that is, if the Prince allowed himself the time for this to happen. Estel could not help himself, though, and chanced upsetting the Elf. He leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to each of the laegel’s closed, weeping eyes. Legolas responded by wrapping his arms around the man’s waist, burrowing his face against the side of the human’s neck, where his tears slid over the bared skin around the Ranger’s open collared shirt.

“Does all of the valley know?” the laegel asked in a weak and tired voice. “Does everyone know?”

Aragorn pressed his cheek against the top of the Silvan’s head and looped his arms over the Wood-Elf’s shoulders. To be able to comfort the Elf, to have kissed him, even chastely, and to know that the Prince did not fear him made the Ranger’s hope for Legolas’ recovery renew once more. “The whole of the valley searches for Mithfindl. They know that he attacked you and Galendil, that he is the one responsible for the King’s sleep, but no one knows all that he has done. No one outside my brothers and father, your father, Kalin, Ninan, Galendil, and Oiolaire. And Glorfindel and Erestor. But my family and friends would not tell a soul. Neither will Kalin or Ninan. I suppose Galendil and Oiolaire would not either, if you asked it of them.”

The Elf sighed again, this time in relief. “I do not want to be the pitied, besmirched Prince any longer,” the laegel vowed to his human lover. “I do not want anyone else to know. Already everyone looks at me as if I am mad.”

“No one will know but do not be ashamed of what has happened.” Estel pressed his lips to the Elf’s temple before he buried his nose in the laegel’s hair, “I know that you could have killed Mithfindl had you wanted, but you did not because you feared for your father’s life –”

Interrupting the Ranger, Legolas told him, his voice muffled against the human’s chest, “No, Estel. The first time, perhaps, and also because I was taken by surprise. But the second time and in between, when given the chance and especially after my father was awake and no longer in danger, I did not kill him because I thought he was you; I did not want to hurt you, no matter how you hurt me.”

 _Once more, Greenleaf has suffered because of me,_ the Ranger discerned from Legolas’ elucidation, _or to protect me from suffering._

A clap of thunder rolled in the far distance. At the end of summer, Imladris usually experienced a few weeks of steady rain: these rains would start soon, for they had already begun sprawling along the Misty Mountains and would slowly start sweeping through the valley, as well. The Bruinen would become engorged with the runoff from the storms that were raining down upon the mountains. The steady sound of the waterfall would soon become nearly deafening. It was to the cascade of water that Aragorn listened as he held the Prince to him. Over the last few days, the man had thought that he could cure all of the laegel’s ills by his mere touch, for he had thought that the scar was the cause of all the Silvan’s woes. He could not cure Legolas of Mithfindl. With the rains came softer ground, which would likely hinder their search for the Noldorin warrior. Until Mithfindl was found, Estel would not rest easy in his safeguard of his lover.

“Mithfindl did not mean to kill me.” In Aragorn’s arms, Legolas’ whole body tensed as he spoke, his mention of the Noldorin warrior dispelling the brief quietude he had been feeling. “He wanted me alive to kill you.”

Even knowing that the Prince could not die from sorrow, no matter how greatly it grew, Estel did not want for his lover to revisit his grief. He hoped to give the Prince courage and optimism. “I know. To finish his revenge. You do not need to speak of it, Greenleaf, if you do not wish.”

Still the two lovers stood entwined together, for neither desired to move away from the other nor the fresh, temperate air that drifted over them from the open balcony doors. Legolas explicated in a voice broken by the recollection of the horrific circumstances under which he’d been instructed by Mithfindl of these plans, “No, not to finish his revenge. Killing you was only the beginning of what he had told me to do, once I was well enough to be able. I don’t suspect that he thought I would be well so soon, as he likely would never have anticipated that Minyatar would use vilya to heal me, but nor do I think he meant to injure me so severely.”

The Ranger tensed, as well. No one had thought to ask Legolas if he remembered what Mithfindl had instructed him to do. Estel had thought that having Legolas kill him would be the end of it, since once the Ranger was dead and even if the periapt were removed, the Prince would have died – if not from grief over the excruciation that Mithfindl had forced upon the Wood-Elf, then from the sorrow that he would have felt for having killed the Ranger. But this was not the case, it seemed.

“What, Greenleaf? What else did he tell you?” the Ranger asked as he pulled back from the laegel to look into his face.

In a roundabout way, Legolas evaded answering by providing a different kind of information, “He went too far. His wrath and desire to torment me overtook him. If Minyatar had not healed me, I would have perished once the stone was removed and Mithfindl would not have seen the culmination of his plans.”

“He will never see the fruition of his schemes, I promise you,” he assured the Prince. “But you mean that he did not want you to die. He wanted you to live for longer than it took to kill me?”

“Once I had killed you, I was to flee the moment I was able, to meet him.” A short-lived shiver ran along the laegel’s body, which caused Aragorn to increase his arms’ pressure upon the Prince, as if to halt the tremors that these memories caused. “He was not finished with me, he said. He was not ready to relinquish his pet. He wanted to break me completely. He suggested to me many ways in which he would do this,” the Prince admitted, his body unwittingly shuddering again in disgust and dread.

The latent rage he felt for the Noldorin warrior was mounting at hearing this. _Mithfindl was not yet done with Greenleaf? Mithfindl may have started this plan by seeking a position in Eryn Galen along with Faelthîr, but by its end, he desired only Greenleaf’s ruination._ Mithfindl had wanted the Prince to come to him for further torment and defilement. The thought of the Noldo ever touching Legolas again drove Estel’s rage to new heights.

Legolas cleared the space between them and once again wrapped his arms around the Ranger’s waist. The slightly shorter Wood-Elf settled his cheek upon the human’s collarbone, his face turned in towards the man’s neck. Inhaling deeply, the Silvan whispered dolorously to the Ranger, “If my father had not removed the periapt, I would be on my way there even now, where he lies in wait to inflict upon me more of his lust and hate.”

 _He knows where Mithfindl is._ The human’s bloodlust grew. “Where? Where were you to meet him?” The Wood-Elf did not answer him immediately. If Aragorn knew where Mithfindl was, he would have the Elf’s head on a pike before sunrise in the morning. “Greenleaf?” he prompted impatiently.

“I do not know.” The Wood-Elf confirmed what Aragorn had only just decided by telling the Ranger, “He thought the periapt would still be upon me so I would not have died, no matter how long it took for my body to heal, and once killing you, I would not have given in to sorrow for my actions since I could not die. Mithfindl told me that he knew he was being followed, but he did not yet suspect that anyone knew of the periapts, or at least he did not mention them and reason would dictate that he thought I would still be under its sway, since the furtherance of his plans depended upon my being under his thrall. But he also thought that no one suspected Faelthîr. So after I had killed you, when I fled, Faelthîr was to go with me. She was to take me to him.”

He did not want to leave Legolas but the Ranger desired to take off running, to find his father or Thranduil, one of the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor – anyone, really, who had the right to question Faelthîr. Unconsciously, the human’s hands were clenching and unclenching in the bloodied, tacky cloth of the Prince’s shirt.

“You will not leave me yet, will you?” the Prince asked of him as he nuzzled his face under the human’s chin, for the laegel was likely able to sense that his lover wanted to flee, to exact his vengeance. “Stay, eat with me, bathe with me, and sleep the night with me, Estel. Tomorrow is soon enough to find Mithfindl.”

Questioning Faelthîr would have to wait. Right now, he needed to see to his lover. In fact, at the mention of the Wood-Elf wanting to share a bath and a bed, the human’s heart soared. He thought not of pleasure but of simple intimacy. He wanted to wash the Elf’s back and have Legolas wash his, to brush the Prince’s hair for him and braid it how he liked it, to have Legolas tease him about the knots in his own hair, and to curl up behind the Prince to sleep. His bloodlust for Mithfindl evaporated. Legolas wanted him. Whether they found Mithfindl or not, tomorrow either way the stone would be stripped from the Prince’s head, his own mind would be the master of his volition again, and Estel did not plan to spend what could be his last hours with his Greenleaf plotting Mithfindl’s slow, tormented demise.


	54. Chapter 54

It was all a farce. Although he showed his sentry and lover a smiling face, inside he felt as if hot ashes ran through his veins rather than blood. He felt that his lungs were burning as if filled with the embers of a dying fire; he was unable to pull in air to breathe without stoking the agonizing pain of persisting in his perpetual disgrace. His head was on the verge of bursting like a bottle of wine that had not been uncorked before being heated amongst the coals. Each time Estel smiled at him, his relief evident, his optimism only growing that his Silvan lover would be well, the Prince felt his betrayal of the Ranger like a sharp pang through his chest, similar to the sudden bouts of constricting sorrow that tightened around his torso to stifle his weary heart’s beat.

He had promised Estel that they would go on their hunting trip. He had lied. Legolas would say whatever was needed to give the human hope, for he had not wanted Estel to be anxious and heartbroken during his last hours with his Elven lover, even though, to the Wood-Elf’s knowledge, Aragorn had no call to believe that these were the last hours that they would spend together. 

Legolas tried to console himself, _I need only to get them to trust me again. I need only for them to leave me be for a short while. I need to keep their attention focused on Mithfindl, on Faelthîr, so that I may do as I must._

In a flurry of activity, eight servants carried water into his bathing room, for they had brought the water all at once so that it would not get cold. Steam rose from the buckets, as they had heated the water in the kitchens prior to bringing it. The laegel desired a warm bath to share with his human lover. It had been since the day of the feast that Legolas had enjoyed a proper wash, although several times since that day he had attempted to clean the blood, seed, and shame from himself. Still he felt disgusting, soiled, and marked by Mithfindl’s lust.

The deep tub was filled suitably to half the way to the top, leaving enough room for the Ranger and Prince to share the bath together without causing the water to spill over the sides. Once the helpful servants were finished, the Wood-Elf poured some sweet smelling oil into the water – it was the essence of citrus fruits, which was his favorite, and was why Estel said that the Prince always seemed to smell like bergamot. He had always loved the bright aroma, for it seemed to wake his mind and body. This night, he wanted it more for the familiar comfort it would bring him. He still bore many painful bruises but no open wounds – other than where his father had cut the stone free from his scalp – and so planned to soak in the tub for as long as he could. He knew that it would likely be his last bath for a while, if not ever.

Earlier, while waiting for the water to come, the sentry, Ranger, and Prince had eaten a good meal, sharing between them a whole roasted chicken, a loaf of hot bread spread with wondrous amounts of fresh butter, a quarter of a small wheel of sharp cheese, a bowl of gingered greens, two pitchers of water, and one aromatic pot of freshly brewed tea. Kalin and Estel had spent more time watching Legolas eat than eating themselves, or so it had seemed to the Prince. Legolas had not cared and had eaten as though famished, for in fact, he had felt ravenous. The taste of the food had been more pleasing than it normally would have been, as though his tongue had known that this would be his last good meal. Now that his new purpose was set, his mind and body fixed upon a definable point in the future in which his aim would be accomplished, ameliorated was the melancholy that had kept him from enjoying simple repast, the company of his friends, and other humble pleasures.

Now, as he sat on the edge of the tub, steam wafting against his vapid face, he ran his fingers through the bathwater to test it to be sure that it would not be too hot for the human. It was warm but pleasantly so, especially now that the heat of the day had turned cooler with the night, and he thought that it would do just fine for his Adan lover.

Settling a smile upon his visage for the benefit of Kalin and Estel, the Prince left his bathing chamber and went back into the bedroom. Kalin sat upon the couch, which is where he’d been since they had eaten. His fellow Wood-Elf was drawn with fatigue, Legolas could see. The Silvan sentry had not had any restful sleep for days and the constant worry for his Prince was catching up to him. He had not seen Kalin that morning, for the sentry had been in the barracks, but Legolas imagined that Kalin had not slept during their time apart, either. He could see it in the way that his friend’s usually lively face was uncharacteristically vacant while watching Aragorn pace on the balcony just outside the doors. Oddly enough, the moment that he heard his Prince approach, the tired emptiness upon Kalin’s fair features became a dissimulative, albeit complaisantly honest attempt at a smile. His sentry was feigning his good cheer just as Legolas was doing, although for much different reasons.

Yes, Kalin was exhausted. His worry for Legolas had not ended but seemed to be growing. Some problem still riddled the sentry’s mind or conscience, though the Prince had no notion of what it could be. Of course, Legolas, too, was faking his blitheness in hopes of appeasing Kalin and Estel, to gain their trust so that he could have the time alone soon to see his final task completed. He only hoped that he was doing a better job at acting ordinary than was his sentry.

 _Only Estel seems to be truly happy this evening,_ he decided as he watched through the open doors as his lover beamed at an owl flying overhead. The Adan could not stop smiling and unlike Kalin and Legolas, his good cheer was not forced at all. The Ranger had his lover alive, well, and with him – for now – so why would he not be happy? The Wood-Elf should have felt the same but he knew that his being alive, well, and with Aragorn was transient.

As his Prince came to him, the dutiful sentry stood to be of assistance. His fellow Wood-Elf had been helping his Prince with his almost every personal task over the last few days, for Legolas had been too injured to do much for himself, and so Kalin meant to offer his help to Legolas in bathing, should he require it of him.

But the younger Wood-Elf wanted to spend his time with Estel – alone. Taking his friend’s arm, he pulled the older Wood-Elf away from the balcony doors, entreating Kalin as they ambled out of the lambent, aurulent light that danced across the stone hearth upon which the sputtering oil lamp sat, “Go, my friend. Find a bath, as well, if you wish it. Or do as you see fit. Sleep for a while, perhaps. You have spent all your time caring for me, and I thank you for it, but now, go care for yourself. I will be fine.”

Immediately, Kalin’s trepidation mounted and he unthinkingly questioned, “Are you certain?”

The sentry did not ask because he was nervous that Estel would mistreat his Prince – all his misgivings for the Ranger were allayed and he trusted his Prince’s welfare with the Ranger completely, as he had before all of the horrid events of the last few days had ever occurred. No, Kalin asked because he feared that his Prince would be uncomfortable around the human and might need his sentry nearby as a reminder of his safety; perhaps he also worried for Estel should this happen, should Legolas become confused or vindictive over the abuse he once thought he had suffered at Estel’s hands.

Nonetheless, realizing that he questioned his Prince’s direct order once again, which was becoming his habit and had been the cause of Legolas’ disintegration the night prior, Kalin thought better of pursuing his concerns. So before Legolas could answer or become irate that his sentry would not obey, Kalin straightened his shoulders, clasped his hands behind his back, and vowed with a respectful smile, “I will go wait in Estel’s room. You’ve only to call out should you need me.”

“I will, if I have need,” Legolas promised, telling his friend and not being mindful of his choice of words, “For a while, I want no interruptions. I wish to enjoy Estel privately, while I am capable of it.”

The moment he had said it, Legolas’ deceitful cheerfulness faltered and he flinched in desperate fear that Kalin would now question why his Prince spoke so morbidly while grinning so happily. But the Silvan sentry said nothing, though he undoubtedly took note. With an odd look for his Prince, Kalin unwillingly left the room to wait in Estel’s room, from where he could see his liege’s doorway right across the hall, and thereby be able to safeguard him while remaining within shouting distance.

If the sentry thought that his Prince was inferring that he wanted privacy so that he and the Ranger could engage in a bout of loving pleasure, then the sentry was sorely mistaken. No, Legolas just wanted to enjoy the Adan without having his sentry sitting in the other room. After tonight, he would not see the Ranger any longer, he assumed, and wanted the memory of a peaceful night with the human before his mind and memories were once more rancid, or perhaps to take with him to the Halls of Awaiting, should that be the consequence of his task.

The reminder of his plans for the morrow made him realize, _I should prepare however I can. I do not know when I will have the opening tomorrow. I must be ready._

For the most part, he would need little other than his weapons and the clothes he wore – he needed to have his bow, quiver and arrows, and long knife in Estel’s room so that they would be at ready and he could take whatever opportunity arose. And so, Legolas walked to his door to call out to Kalin before he left, should he not have gone directly to Estel’s room as he had said he would, but the sentry had gone no farther than the middle of the hall, where he stood as if unsure what he ought to be doing if not caring for his Prince.

At the sound of the laegel’s door opening, Kalin whirled around. “Legolas?”

Most of the sentries in his father’s realm loved their King and Prince, certainly; else, they would not have chosen a vocation that placed the King and Prince’s lives above their own. However, Kalin had always gone above and beyond his duty. He had nursed his Prince when Legolas had not been able to stand the presence of anyone else to view his shame. He had killed and almost been killed for his Prince numerous times since first he had joined the Prince’s retinue of sentries long ago. The younger Silvan had to admire his sentry’s unfaltering loyalty. Above his father, Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, or even Estel, Legolas’ departure on the morrow would be betraying his sentry most of all, he knew.

“I had forgotten. Can you please do me one favor?” he inquired, aware that Kalin would not hesitate to agree to practically anything that his Prince asked of him. His making Kalin an accomplice to his plans turned Legolas’ stomach, even though he had yet to do anything disagreeable.

At once, Kalin’s hesitative lassitude perked up into genuine eagerness to be of service. The sentry stepped back into the room with Legolas to say, “Of course. What do you need?”

Kalin followed Legolas to the far side of the Prince’s room, where upon the wall hung his bow, arrow filled quiver, and his long, white handled knife. Carefully sparing a glance towards the balcony doors to ensure that the Ranger was not able to see them or looking this way, he took his weapons down from the wall and passed them one by one to Kalin, requesting, “Can you please take these to Estel’s room?” The Prince added as if making a suggestion, though in truth he wanted Kalin to see to this more than he wanted him to secret the weapons across the hall, “If you get bored, take a whetstone to my knife.”

“I will check your arrows,” Kalin told him, “and your bowstring while I am at it.”

Although his fellow Silvan accepted the weapons, it was with many unsaid questions hovering behind his helpful demeanor. The sentry then stood there, as if expecting that the laegel would elucidate his reasoning for wanting his weapons tended to at such an odd time. A warrior was only as good as the state of his weapons, but his Prince had no reason to be worrying about such things right now, by Kalin’s reckoning.

Legolas offered no further information. Tomorrow would be soon enough for Kalin to figure out why his Prince had requested his weapons be ready for combat. Instead, he reminded his sentry, “Do not worry over them too much, Kalin, or me, for that matter. Try to rest.”

“It is my job, and my pleasure, to keep you safe. I will be watching your door,” the sentry replied. “I will rest once I know that you are out of danger.”

“Then you will never sleep again,” he tried to joke, but his jest fell flat, for truly the Prince had found little security as of late, even in Imladris, which by all accounts should have been the safest place possible for him.

His sentry gave him another forced, melancholy smile as his Prince walked him back to the door. Hefting the laegel’s weapons in hand, Kalin left, closing the portal softly shut behind him. Legolas sighed and rested his forehead against the wall for a moment. He had likely created suspicion but could do nothing for it now, and so walked to the double doors that opened upon the valley, where in the dusk Estel was still pacing upon the attached balcony. The Ranger was fiddling with his pipe, using a twig to clean the remnants of spent pipe-weed from the bowl.

“The water is warm, Estel, if you wish to bathe with me.”

Aragorn whirled around, ostensibly overjoyed to be included. He knew that the Ranger wanted what he wanted – that is, to be together, not to be carnal. One thing that Legolas had not lied about to Estel was this: he did not fear the Adan, he was not repulsed by his nearness, nor did he associate the Ranger with the foul deeds committed by Mithfindl while Legolas was enthralled into believing him to be Aragorn. Reaching out, he took the human’s hand and led his lover into the bedchamber and to the bathing room. A single candelabrum lit the room such that beyond its circle of illumination there was only shadow. Once there, the Wood-Elf turned to look at Estel.

With another well-meant but counterfeit grin, Legolas began undressing the human by pulling the tunic from over his head, telling him as would his Minyatar or one of the twins tell the Ranger if they were there, “You cannot soak in the water, not with these stitches.”

“Then I will hurry to wash and then sit here with you while you soak,” he assured the Prince with a returned smile. As the Wood-Elf knelt before the Adan, he looked up to see that Aragorn looked down at him, the utter adoration in his eyes just another painful reminder to the Prince of the imminent perfidy he would act upon tomorrow.

_Let him be happy now. Tomorrow he will hate me._

Legolas removed the man’s boots; he then reached for the ties at Estel’s waist. Only that morning the Wood-Elf had knelt before Aragorn as he did now. The memory of his shameful actions that predawn so overwhelmed the laegel that he turned his attention to skimming the cloth off the human’s legs, instead, so that he would no longer have to see the unwavering adulation upon Estel’s face. Only the bloodied bandaging wrapped around the man’s belly remained. With care, Legolas unwound the linen and removed the square of cloth that had caught the seeping blood from his lover’s body. He threw the bandaging into the darkest corner of the caliginous chamber.

The Adan was completely bare to the laegel; he had always admired the human’s body, even before they were lovers, because of how different Estel was to him. Most of the Ranger’s skin was tanned a pleasant sandy color, his swarthy hair stippled with grey, despite his relatively young age, and said hair peppered Estel’s chest agreeably before running a silken trail down his muscled belly to his manhood. Aragorn’s legs were thick and strong and the same dark hair covered the paler skin of his lower limbs, as well.

Legolas had the sudden urge to wrap his arms around the human’s shins as he had tried to do so earlier, to plead for forgiveness and mercy – both of which Estel had already given him, though he had also said that there was nothing to forgive and therefore no mercy to offer. Tomorrow, though, Estel might change his mind about being so tolerant. His gaze skimming the human’s body from his feet upwards, the Wood-Elf turned away in shame when he saw the dried, tacky blood that was caught in the hair and upon the skin of the Ranger’s belly.

_That is my doing. I do not care if Mithfindl is the impetus behind my actions – I was the fool who let him take control over me._

Done undressing his lover, the laegel sat back on his heels to ask, “Does it hurt?”

“Not much, no,” the Adan told him with his ever-present, hopeful smile, knowing just of what the Prince asked. Extending his hand out, the Ranger pulled Legolas back into standing. “It is shallow, Greenleaf. You stayed your hand. You fought against the periapt’s control to save my life,” he reminded his Elven lover.

The laegel stepped away to kick the human’s dirty clothing into a pile in the corner, as well. It was in the corner, his back turned to Estel, where he stood to strip off his own clothing. He was falling back into disconsolation, allowing his true emotions to show, and so joked to try to lighten the conversation, “This is the last set of clothes I have in the valley and they are ruined, just like the others. At this rate, I will be wearing the drapes and tablecloths before the end.”

 _Before the end?_ he chastised himself the moment that he’d quit speaking. _Watch your words, you fool. You need no more suspicion._

“Did Kalin find clean clothing for you to wear?” the Ranger asked as he lowered himself slowly into the tub, having thankfully not noticed the Prince’s strange words.

The human was watching Legolas as he kicked his own discarded clothing into the same pile, the bloodied bandaging hidden underneath all this to deny its existence. Estel’s eyes were scouring the laegel’s body without lustful intentions but with the assessing gaze of someone who searched for hidden injury. 

“Enough to suit me,” he answered, his placatory smile back upon his face.

_Suitable enough for my purposes. Suitable enough to die in, when it comes to it._

Just as Legolas sat down and began to swing his legs over to slide in on the opposite end of the oversized tub, Aragorn hurriedly stuck his hand out to halt him by grabbing the Elf’s thigh. Though it startled the Prince, he was not alarmed by this abrupt action. Instead, he followed Estel’s gaze to view the skin over his thigh, which had once looked like a cracked pane of glass. His thigh had hurt him constantly, even when he was resting, but now, the skin was as smooth and unblemished as before he’d been scored by the broken branch outside Lake-town and the muscle underneath was healthy and caused him no pain.

“It is truly gone,” the Adan said in wonder, his silver eyes suddenly brimming with tears of joy. “I had not thought to live long enough to see those scars fade.”

While said in truth, the human’s words dug into the Wood-Elf’s dishonest salubriousness. He gave no sign of it; Legolas was adamant that he would give the Ranger this night as a good reminiscence, just as much as he longed to have the memory himself. To have his thigh healed completely was wonderful, but in the end, he doubted he would live long enough for it to matter.

“Elrond does not use vilya’s healing powers lightly and never all at once, but slowly over time. Often he would massage my thigh but I could not often tell when he was using vilya upon me – not like today. I could feel the power of vilya today.” Aragorn removed his hand and the Silvan eased himself into the tub. They sat across from each other, their legs stretched out and laying close in the water, whose surface was opaque with the fragrant oil Legolas had earlier added. “I am surprised that Minyatar used vilya to heal me so greatly.”

With a chuckle, Aragorn settled back into the groove of the end of the tub, laying his arms over the edge on either side of him. “The Elvenking convinced him to do so. Although I must admit that I put the idea into your father’s mind.”

This made Legolas snicker in return in true, surprised mirth. He had vague memories about the hours just before Elrond had healed him back to near full health. He vividly recalled the agony of both his mind and body. He recalled wanting to die, the need to diminish so acute within his thinking that he had been trying to beg Estel to kill him. It did seem that Elrond and Thranduil had been off to the side, arguing or discussing something, but Legolas’ attention at the time had been focused solely upon his trying to fade. Thinking of this time brought up something else over which he was confused.

“What happened to change my father’s mind about you?” he asked in puzzlement. Legolas had placed beside him one of the small tables in the room, where he had earlier sat a couple of washcloths and oil soap. Taking one cloth in hand, he dipped it in the water to wet it ere he uncorked a bottle of the oil soap, pouring it onto the soft fabric. “I have heard him call you by name, though his speaking to you at all is a change in itself. He seems no longer to hate you.”

Estel shifted uncomfortably, as he was obviously unsure how to reply. With his soapy cloth in hand, the Prince lifted one of the human’s legs, and starting with his foot, began to bathe the human from toe to knee. He had moved on to the other leg before Aragorn finally answered him very quietly, as if by speaking softly he could lessen the damage caused by reminding the Wood-Elf of it. “I am not entirely sure, but when you stabbed me, when you wanted to kill me and you begged for someone to kill you to stop you from doing it, I told you that I would rather die than see you hurt, if you recall. I do not think that he believed that I truly loved you, that you truly loved me, until that moment. He even said to me that you must find happiness, and that if it is with me, then at least he would know that you will always be cared for and loved.”

His mind bowing under such information, Legolas numbly climbed to his knees. Under the water and with more soap oil on his lathered cloth, Legolas began to lave the human’s thighs. Estel’s eyes were drooping – not with sleepiness but with the straightforward, innocent pleasure of being doted on by his lover, of having his tired and aching muscles massaged. _Ada has accepted Estel?_ The very idea of his father condoning, much less supporting his love and relationship with the Adan, seemed outrageous to the Wood-Elf. And in fact, to hear this cast further doubt upon his plans for the morrow. He could find nothing to say in response.

“Turn around. Let me wash your back and hair,” he instructed Aragorn. The quicker he finished bathing the Ranger, the better it would be for his stitches. Happily, the Adan complied, and Legolas lovingly began scrubbing the human’s broad, muscled back, then his arms, and then took up the pitcher to pour water over his lover’s head, ere he soaped Estel’s curled hair and rinsed it.

“I do not want to get out of this tub,” the human told the Prince as he turned around so that he could face the laegel again.

Carefully, Legolas finished his task by lathering the Ranger’s chest, taking extra care around the gut thread stitched into the wound on his belly, his own belly roiling with disgusted disgrace as the traces of blood left upon the man were washed away. But with a teasing smile, the Prince laid the washcloth on his lover’s shoulder to tell him, “Wash your face and wherever else you need and get out, meleth nin, ere your wound starts to bleed again.”

So happy, so content and satisfied did Estel appear during all this that Legolas took up the pitcher and poured the warm, soapy water over his own head just to hide the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes and that would soon begin to fall. The Prince grabbed the second washcloth and tediously washed his feet and legs under the water. Although the worst of his injuries were healed, the many contusions upon his alabaster skin were still there – they were now faded to the yellowish-brown of bruises nearly healed. The flesh on his arms that had been chafed by the coarse rope was no longer a bloody, raw mess, but showed only a light pink tinge – the color of newly formed skin. The insidious, internal injuries done to his viscera, muscles, and ribs from Mithfindl repeatedly having hit him with the brick were restored entirely, for Elrond’s healing had focused on the direst of wounds rather than the superficial ones. Most beneficial of all the healing done to him was that the inner flesh of his body, which had been abraded and torn by Mithfindl’s lust, was also healed completely. He could not have sat on the tub’s hard floor otherwise.

Having finished, the human wisely crawled out of the bath. Legolas watched his lover’s every action. Estel took up a towel and wrapped it around his waist, grabbed another to lay on the floor next to the tub, and then paid the Prince the same favor of washing his back, his arms, his chest, and even gently wiped clean the laegel’s face, where the abrasions that Mithfindl had made with his makeshift bit and rein during his first ravishment of the Elf were now only indistinctly inflamed and barely noticeable. Through all of this, the laegel had to fight the urge to sigh repeatedly, so great was his relief to be touched by his lover and to experience no pain or fear from this gentle handling.

While he held no trepidation or doubts about Estel, much like the rest of his second family, his father, and his sentry, Legolas had also feared that he would never be able to withstand Estel’s presence. He needed this night. He needed Estel tonight. He would not make it through what happened next without having formed this fond memory. He would take it with him for sustenance during what lay ahead.

“Even though you are nearly as good as new, it pains me to see you bruised at all,” the Ranger told him. Estel took up the oil to begin washing the Elf’s sopping hair.

Under the water, the soap bubbles glinting opaline in the candlelight, Legolas skimmed his hands over the healed skin of his thigh. Since he had awoken from his brief nap, he had not heard the vile voice of his grief. He thought, _I wish that with the mar being healed, the voice would be gone, also,_ but doubted that vilya could heal grief and madness; else, he would not be in the predicament in which he currently found himself. Aloud he thought, “If Minyatar had not used vilya, I would be dead right now.”

Aragorn’s hands paused in their toil of separating the tangled mess of his lover’s hair. “And I will thank him every day for using it.”

He knew why his Minyatar did not often employ the ring of magic for mundane purposes of healing; to use a magical ring to restore life or health was not wrong in itself, but if wounds were often erased and lives so easily saved, there would be no repercussions. He remembered clearly, after his Minyatar had healed him, that Elrond had told Thranduil and Estel that he had made a mistake in healing the Prince. Elrond had seen that the work of the periapt was not yet complete and had rightfully feared for all of their safety with a well Legolas still under the thrall of the stone. However, the laegel felt that his Minyatar was right, even with the charm now removed. They had made a mistake in keeping him alive. But it was a mistake that he could rectify.

Unbeknownst to the laegel, who of course knew nothing of the stone in his hair or that the next day the stone would be removed and his faer able to depart his rhaw, Aragorn was careful in how he lathered his lover’s long, butter colored tresses, for he did not want to disturb the periapt that Thranduil had placed upon him. Legolas believed that Estel was trying not to pester the open wound made by the Elf-King in removing Mithfindl’s imprecated charm from him, and so thought nothing of how the Ranger avoided the hair at the nape of his neck.

For a while longer, his bath finished but still enjoying the water, Legolas stayed in the tub with Aragorn sitting quietly beside him on the floor of the bathing chamber. Often the man would reach out to stroke some part of the laegel’s exposed flesh, although he did not delve his hands under the water to touch anywhere below the Prince’s waist – likely out of fear that he would upset Legolas. But the Wood-Elf felt better than he had in days. The Silvan tried to focus upon the human’s gentle caresses, on the cooling bathwater that relaxed him, and on the quiet and safety of being in Aragorn’s care and presence. Try though he might, his mind kept returning to the next day and what he must do.

 _I waste my time scheming for tomorrow when I should be enjoying tonight,_ he regretted. _There will be no more moments like these ever again. Not after I am gone. Not for me, anyway._

Estel had his arm over the edge of the tub, his hand gently kneading the laegel’s neck and shoulders, until Legolas stopped him by laying his head upon the man’s upper arm, telling him, “I would that we could sit like this forever.”

He received no spoken reply, although the Ranger laid his dark head next to the Wood-Elf’s fair head and gave a contented sigh. It wasn’t until someone began to knock that either moved. Just when Estel began to rise to see who was there, Kalin came through the entry to the outer chamber, calling out without coming close to the bathing room’s door so not to disturb the two lovers, “My Prince. King Thranduil and Lord Elrond are here.”

The true test of his performance would be now, while around his Minyatar, who always knew when he lied, and his father, who over the course of their many years had always believed that his son lied, regardless of whether he told the truth or not. Legolas rose and stepped from the tub only to be immediately swathed in his robe. The Ranger handed him a towel for his hair and then reached for the clean clothing he had fetched earlier from his own room, while the servants had been filling the tub. “I knew that neither my father nor your father would stay away for long,” the human complained good-naturedly.

“Only a few minutes more,” he called out to his sentry while giving his lover a half-grin at his tongue-in-cheek grumble about their fathers.

The outer door shut and with haste, the two dressed. Legolas was not ready to see his Minyatar or father. He feared that somehow they would know what he planned and would find a way to put an end to it before he had the chance to enact his aim.

 _Let me convince them that I am well,_ he prayed to Varda as he pulled on his clothes, his eyes turning to the small window set high in the wall of the bathing room. Through this window, the light of the stars could just be seen past the tree that grew alongside the house – the very tree that bore a bloodstain from Legolas’ head from where he’d climbed onto his balcony and into his room. He begged, _Let them be joyful tonight so that they will despise me a little less for bringing them heartache on the morrow._


	55. Chapter 55

After they were finished dressing, the two lovers went to the door to let in their fathers, who were speaking softly outside with Kalin. Although Aragorn did not hear of what they spoke, their conversation ended the moment that Legolas opened the door, which to Estel evinced that they had been speaking of the laegel who now let them inside his chamber. Thranduil and Elrond were smiling as they entered, apparently having received good news from the sentry about his Prince’s welfare, while the equally pleased Kalin only nodded to his Prince and crossed the hall back to Estel’s room, as he intended to leave the two families alone. Estel did not doubt that the sentry would remain nearby for now and likely within shouting distance for every moment of the rest of the Prince’s life in his effort to keep his Prince safe.

“Kalin tells us that you three ate a hearty meal,” his elated foster father said by way of greeting to Estel and Legolas, his long robe swishing as he moved from the way to let Thranduil walk past him. “And I can see that you have both had proper baths.”

“We did on both accounts,” the Prince agreed, closing the door shut once the elders were within his bedchamber.

The two fathers seemed as thrilled as Estel and Kalin had been to see that Legolas desired to eat, to bathe, and that he was content to be with his Adan lover. Elrond and Thranduil had anticipated that the Prince would be in dire condition but had been received with a welcoming smile, had expected reclusiveness but Legolas seemed glad to have them visit, and though they had thought the Prince might be uncomfortable around the Ranger, he seemed happy to keep close to Aragorn’s side and had even shared a bath with him. To the two fathers, these were all heartening signs of Legolas’ increasing resolve to live.

_They seem to have reconciled their differences – for now, at least._

Thranduil and Elrond took seats on the couch, side by side, their earlier arguing and sniping ended. Estel could not imagine what the two elder Elves had spoken of while alone together, but they had reached an understanding that dismissed all previous animosity between them. At some point over the last few hours, while Legolas and Aragorn had been left to their own devices, Thranduil had bathed again and changed into clean clothing, for his dressing robe, shirt, and trousers had been stained with his son’s blood. Elrond had done the same, for he been covered in Legolas’ blood from having tended to him, as well, but had also had Estel’s blood upon his face, hands, and clothing from treating the Ranger’s stabbed belly.

Estel lingered by the fireplace, watching Legolas as he began fiddling with various things around the room – gathering the dirty dishes, lighting more candles, and such to keep himself busy, it seemed. The human half-listened as Thranduil and Elrond asked Legolas of various small things – of the aches and pains of his bruises, of the headache he’d been suffering from endlessly over the last few days, of whether his nose had finally quit its bleeding. It wasn’t until Thranduil asked Estel if his wounded belly hurt that he returned his attention to them, answering that he felt fine, and only then realized the oddity of having Thranduil worry over him.

 _Who would ever have guessed?_ he mused to himself. _My father and his father fussing over us – as if we were a newly bonded couple,_ he thought, wishing that he could share that strange imagining with Legolas, who would laugh along with him. The Secondborn had a different concept of marriage than did the Firstborn and often took their mate’s family for their own, whereas amongst the Elves it was more a matter of choice than of common practice. Just imagining himself ever calling Thranduil “Ada” or “Father,” as a human might call his married partner’s father, made the Ranger laugh aloud at the absurdity, which caused Legolas to look at him in bewilderment though he didn’t miss a word in answering the Elf-King’s question about whether the wound to his scalp still bled.

It had only been a short while since he had last touched the Elf but already it seemed too long. As his lover walked by after throwing more dirty clothes into the pile in the bathing chamber, Estel lightheartedly pulled the towel from Legolas’ head, grinning at the Wood-Elf when his hair flopped over his face in a wild disarray of blond strands, and received a playful scowl from the Prince in response. He laughed again at the Silvan’s mock aggravation.

“Sit, Greenleaf, and let me untangle this mess you call hair,” he teased his Elven lover as he took him by the hand. He could feel Legolas’ nervousness rising because of his father and Minyatar’s presence and questions and wanted to do what he could to alleviate this anxiety, but also, Aragorn wanted to tend the Prince’s hair so that Legolas would not touch the periapt upon him by accident. The horses for which they had been made would not have been capable of touching the stone themselves and since this was the first and hopefully only time that the periapt had been used on an Elf, they had no idea what would happen should the Prince handle the stone himself. Moreover, it was imperative that Legolas not know of the periapt tonight. Tomorrow night was soon enough.

The Wood-Elf allowed himself to be led to the end of the bed, saying merrily as they went, “You are one to talk, my love, being as your hair looks like a bird’s nest. I believe you could hide a family of chipmunks in your hair and never be the wiser.”

Chuckling sunnily and feeling wonderful that they had cause to want to laugh, Aragorn searched through the laegel’s trunk for his hairbrush, closed the lid, and then mildly pushed the Elf into sitting upon it. Elrond and Thranduil were silent observers to all this, though the human could tell by their ageless, knowing faces that they were both beyond pleased, their paternal worry for the Wood-Elf Prince assuaged by his buoyancy and readiness to tease and be teased, and willingness to be handled by his lover. Both Elrond and Thranduil had placed their hopes for Legolas’ recovery upon Estel doing what he had done for the Prince before – drawing him away from his sorrow with his unceasing acceptance and loving devotion. It was a burden of duty that Estel would not shirk; he had saved the Wood-Elf from fading once and he would do it again, if he could.

Under their watchful eyes, Legolas and Estel did as they had almost every day since the Prince had returned to the valley months ago – the Prince sat on the trunk at the end of his bed to let the Ranger brush his damp hair. The laegel had always loved to have this done, for it reminded him of his Naneth, who had loved to run her fingers through her son’s hair, to braid it, to brush it. The Wood-Elf sat still, his eyes closed, his mind wandering in the satiating familiarity of having Estel touch him. Still happily amazed that he was allowed near his lover, when he had feared Legolas wouldn’t suffer him or that the Elf would fade and thus he would never to be able to touch him again, the Ranger took his time in his task to prolong his and Legolas’ enjoyment. He worked the Prince’s long tresses into a single, loose braid that would keep it from getting tangled when he slept later in the night, ever careful of the hidden periapt since he was still not certain where upon the Elf’s head it was placed. For the human, the act of plaiting his lover’s hair was more pleasurable than had they been engaged in carnal play. To Aragorn, this simple act was another step closer to normalcy.

Elrond and Thranduil were speaking to Legolas of nothing in particular, conversing of nothing that held Estel’s interest, for his mind was ever upon his lover before him. The three Elves spoke as if the circumstances were entirely different, as if the Prince had not that morning been beaten almost to death and brutally defiled. It was not indifference or hedging that caused Elrond and Thranduil to skirt around the issue at hand but kindness. There was nothing more to be said on the subject unless Legolas wished to speak of it; if he did, they would be glad to talk. However, bringing up Mithfindl and the Prince’s excruciation every time that they were with Legolas would only keep his torment in the forefront of his mind. And perhaps, Estel hoped, they were willing to give Legolas this night of peace in case it was to be his last. If the Prince chose not to fade after tomorrow night, then there would be time aplenty for Elrond and Thranduil to help Legolas suppuratively lance the shame of Mithfindl’s vitiating actions from his festering faer.

Although the Ranger was now done with the Elf’s hair, he was loath to let the Prince away from him, and so quickly found some other reason to keep him near. Estel took to massaging Legolas’ neck, shoulders, and upper back, taking care not to aggravate any contusions upon the Prince; the Silvan was stiff with unease but soon relaxed under Aragorn’s firm, loving hands. The room had grown quiet but not unpleasantly so. Even though the elders had last been speaking of the coming rains that would soon drench the valley, a topic that must hold little importance to the Prince, Legolas had only grown tenser.

 _The rains cannot be worrying Greenleaf, so what is the real cause for his increasing anxiety?_ he thought, pondering if it was the others’ presence that was causing his lover this disquiet. Aragorn slid his arms around the laegel’s waist and rested his forehead against the Wood-Elf’s shoulder, thinking, _I hope that they leave soon._ Elrond and Thranduil had the same right as he had to want to spend time with the laegel, being that they knew as well as he that this time tomorrow the Prince might be nothing more than a corpse, but the Ranger did not wish to share his lover, especially if they were only going to cause him stress – even unwittingly.

“It is good to see you without blood staining your face, bandaging, or clothing, my son,” the Elvenking told the Prince. “We will need to find a tailor to make you new clothing, I think. Those trousers you borrowed from me are nearly falling off your hips.”

Legolas gave his father a smile – each time that the laegel showed any signs of any emotion other than sorrow, Elrond and Thranduil would look to Estel, as if he could explain this odd change in temperament. Although they were glad to see the Prince so ostensibly happy, it was not what they had anticipated. The laegel told them, “These clothes will suit me fine for now. Kalin is about my size. I had not thought to ask him before I asked Kalin to enlist Faidnil into finding something for me to wear, but I know that Kalin brought a few sets of clothes with him and also keeps a few here, like I do, for when we are in the valley. He will have something to loan me until more can be made.”

Faidnil had found for his Prince a pair of the King’s trousers that the servant had hurriedly trimmed at the bottom so that they would be the appropriate length. With a belt, the bark colored trousers fit well enough although they hung loosely. Faidnil had found a shirt in his own clothing that was of plain linen, immaculately light blue in color, which fit Legolas almost perfectly, though it, too, was slightly large upon the Wood-Elf Prince. The faithful servant had managed to procure from Ninan’s possessions an ornate tunic that the sentry had brought with him and worn for the King’s welcoming feast; the finely made tunic was the color of moss. All in all, Faidnil had done well in his undertaking.

_Now if only we can see to it that Legolas suffers no more, that he incurs no further injury, then he won’t end up wearing the drapes as he said he might._

Finally, the Prince made to stand from the trunk, causing the Ranger to release his hold from him, albeit grudgingly. He took the hairbrush up from where Aragorn had sat it upon the bed and with it pointed at Estel, warned him with a grin, “No complaining if I pull your hair.”

He was helpless but to smile back at the beaming Wood-Elf. Legolas moved to stand behind him to brush the Ranger’s hair, now, though since the human kept it shoulder length and wore no braids, it was a much easier job. Unlike Legolas, though, Aragorn was not fond of having his hair brushed, which was why he rarely brushed it. Gamely, though, he let Legolas do as he pleased, as he was wont to do anything to satisfy the Wood-Elf and especially so tonight.

“Where are my wayward brothers?” Estel asked his father, his head jerking back when the Prince found a knot with the brush. He wondered why the twins had not shown over the course of the evening.

“Elladan and Elrohir are with Glorfindel,” the Peredhel told them. “They are helping how they can, but there has been no sign of Mithfindl yet. I fear with the coming rains, we will lose any tracks he has made. No trace has been found of from where in the valley he left, no witness has been found of his departure. He has not been seen by the patrols on the outskirts.”

A silence ensued after this. Estel thought then to tell the two elders about what Legolas had told him, of how Faelthîr would know of where Mithfindl went, but the Ranger feared to incite their questioning of Legolas right now, for he didn’t want to ruin the Wood-Elf’s buoyant mood. And so, he vowed, _I will find time to tell them when not around Greenleaf._

The Wood-Elf had long since finished brushing Estel’s hair but was now doing as the human had done by finding ways to keep his lover near. Legolas was skimming his hands across the Ranger’s curly hair, sweeping it back and behind his ears in fretful, repetitive motions. His hands paused in their fidgeting; the Prince suddenly exclaimed, “Estel! We didn’t wrap new bandaging around your belly.”

From the supply of bandaging that had been left over from earlier, when Elrond had first treated the human’s stab wound, Legolas found a clean roll. The Ranger had been in too much of a hurry to get dressed before to worry over it. He stood, though, at Legolas’ gentle prompting, and let the laegel lift his shirt so that he could swathe him in the fresh, pristine linen.

“It hasn’t been bleeding still, has it?” the Lord of Imladris asked as he walked up behind Legolas to inspect his human son’s wound.

“No, it has not. And no,” he offered before his perpetually worried father could ask, “I did not soak in the tub. Legolas kicked me out.”

Before, the Ranger might not have mentioned being nude in a tub with the Prince, for it would have upset the Elvenking to hear of how his son was sharing a bath with a male, human lover, and Thranduil being upset had only ever caused pain for Greenleaf. Thinking of this now, Estel chanced to look at his lover’s father, who had promised that he had accepted the human’s presence. The Elvenking was beaming widely, his misgiving of Legolas’ good mood having vacillated to optimism that his son would be well, though it would soon return to suspicion. At noting that the Ranger looked at him, Thranduil turned his gracious smile to the human.

 _When he smiles,_ the Adan thought, _he looks just like Legolas._

Elrond oversaw the Prince’s caretaking; once done, the Noldo patted him upon the back, teasing, “We will make a healer of you yet, Greenleaf.”

Without knocking, Kalin came within his Prince’s bedchambers. Faidnil was close behind the sentry; the servant waited for no invitation nor did he ask his King or Prince for permission to be within the room. Instead, Faidnil merely began cleaning. Kalin gave no reason for coming within, either, but stood at the far wall, where he leant against the mural painted upon the stone that depicted Mirkwood back when it was still known as Greenwood the Great.

 _What is different?_ the human wondered of where Kalin stood. The wall looked emptier than normal. If he had thought about it for more than a fleeting moment, the Ranger would have noticed that the Prince’s weapons were missing from where they customarily hung. Had he noticed, his lover’s plans for the next day might have been foiled. As it was, Faidnil was patiently trying to get his attention to get him to move so that he could make the bed, since Aragorn was sitting upon the trunk and was blocking his access to the blanket and sheet that had been flung to the end of the mattress. Upon noticing this, Estel promptly forgot about the odd emptiness of the wall. He rose and stood beside Legolas near the fireplace so that he would be out of Faidnil’s way.

They had left a multitude of bandages, dirty linens, herbs, and tinctures sitting around the laegel’s bedchambers from their earlier efforts to manage his myriad injuries. While Faidnil cleared the mess, even piling up the borrowed, damp sheets and blankets that Kalin had pulled from the twins’ and Estel’s beds – linens that they had used to place the Prince upon during and after Elrond and Thranduil had sluiced the dirt and muck from his body before tending his wounds – the Peredhel gathered all the miscellaneous healing items together. Before learning that Thranduil had removed the stone, Elrond had been in the apothecary obtaining and creating medicines to aid the Prince as he fought his sorrow and the last of his body’s injuries, so there was an abundance of unused items lying about the room.

“Although your wounds are mostly mended, I would prefer it if you would drink something to keep the swelling down, to aid in the fading of your bruises, and to forfend any pain. I have here what I need for it,” Elrond was telling the Prince, but turned to look at the Ranger as he said, “I will brew it for you both.”

Elrond picked through the various items he had gathered to find the ones that he needed for his tea. The herbs were already ground and ready to brew. Elrond set about doing this, heating water over the lamp in which to steep his mixture.

“My son,” the King began from where he still sat upon the couch, “the scar upon your leg is gone, but do you feel any pain from it any longer?”

Having only a couple hours previous been told by Legolas that he wanted no one else to know of his torment by Mithfindl, the Ranger could only assume that the Prince and King both trusted Faidnil more than they might any normal servant, for their conversation did not cease while the elder Elf went about his business.

“No, Ada, I do not. It is as good as new,” the laegel replied. Legolas reached for his thigh and held tight to it as if the mention of it aggrieved him, belying his assertion that it did not hurt.

Thranduil was not accustomed to watching over the Prince for the telltale signs of his hearing the voice of grief that had once manifested in the ruined flesh of the young Wood-Elf’s thigh, but both Elrond and Aragorn noticed Legolas’ actions straightaway. While Estel reached out to grab his lover’s hand, to keep the Prince from mistreating his leg in an effort to quell the tiresome, argumentative voice of his sorrow, Elrond dropped the tea ball into the warmed water and came to the laegel. He knelt before the Prince, while the Adan held tight to the Silvan’s hand.

“It is fine,” the laegel tried to preempt their worry for him, saying as he had countless times the past two months. At first, Legolas made as if to pull his hand out of Aragorn’s hand, but when Estel did not let go, he instead twisted his hand inside the human’s so that he could entwine his fingers with the Ranger’s digits. The laegel made an explanation of his actions, as he would have over the past few months, when they had all kept careful watch over him, “I only reached for it to marvel at how it no longer hurts.”

“Then it is still quiet?” the Peredhel inquired, looking up to the laegel from where he knelt before him. Legolas nodded.

Doing as he had numerous times since the Silvan Prince had returned to the valley to heal, Elrond lightly massaged the Wood-Elf’s thigh, even though Legolas had only just claimed that the flesh there pained him no longer. Estel imagined that his father desired to do this to derive comfort from touching the Silvan whom he loved as a son as much as to give comfort to the younger Elf. He understood the impulse well, for he had not been able to keep his hands from the laegel, either.

Elrond asked, his indulgent hand ever palpating the Prince’s leg, “When last did it speak to you, Greenleaf?”

“It has not spoken since after the periapt was first removed. It has been silent since I awoke,” the Prince confessed. The Wood-Elf’s grip had tightened upon the Ranger’s hand, his fingers squeezing Estel’s digits almost painfully, as his apprehension renewed. Pacified that the Prince was as well as he claimed, Elrond rose and returned to making the tea he wished for Legolas and Estel to drink before they slept.

Estel noted how the King’s face fell at Legolas’ admission. _I had forgotten – Thranduil did not know that the scar awoke along with Legolas’ grief after his torture by Mithfindl._ The last that he had heard was that the scar was quiet and his son’s grief at bay – that had been upon his arrival in the valley. No one had told him otherwise since then. When they had been certain that Legolas would die, Thranduil had made some comment about the Prince dying free of the scar and neither Elrond nor Estel had corrected him out of pity for the Elf-King. _Neither the scar nor Legolas’ grief will heal so easily. In fact,_ he thought as he pulled the laegel’s hand to him to press against his stubbled cheek, _it will likely take even longer than previously ere Legolas is as hale as he was before Mithfindl’s abuse._

The Ranger was no fool. Legolas was smiling, laughing, and cheerful, but he was not well. The Wood-Elf was pretending to be happy; he thought he had Estel fooled, but Estel knew his lover better than that. He knew that Legolas was bravely trying to ease everyone’s fear for him. Even still, the human could only be pleased that his lover was trying. For now, Legolas may be forcing himself to remain optimistic and joyful, but with time, it would come naturally to him as it had before.

His arms full of detritus to clear away, the bed having been made and the room in immaculate order once again, Faidnil asked Legolas first, “Is there anything that I can get you, young one?”

“No, but thank you,” the Prince replied with a sincere smile for Faidnil.

Next the King’s servant asked Thranduil the same exact question, surprising Estel to hear Faidnil’s gentle impudence in asking his King, “And is there anything that I can get you, young one?”

He watched in wonderment as Thranduil smirked at Faidnil’s playfully impertinent epithet. “No, thank you, Faidnil.”

With that, Faidnil took the dirtied clothes, linens, and dishes out of the room; Kalin shut the door behind him but stayed within Legolas’ chambers, as it seemed that the sentry was having a difficult time in letting his charge out of his sight for long. Already the night had grown late – or at least, late enough that Estel realized that the Prince would soon want to sleep, especially once he had drunk the soothing tea Elrond brewed for them.

“It is growing late,” the Peredhel said, eerily echoing Estel’s thoughts, as he poured said medicinal tea into two cups, which he then sat upon the mantel for now to cool. “Come, Estel, Kalin. Let us leave father and son to say goodnight.”

Estel knew that his father truly wanted to interrogate him about Legolas, but he did not balk, reminding himself, _Thranduil needs the time alone with Greenleaf to make his peace, as well._ He walked his father and Kalin out into the hall, leaving Thranduil and Thranduilion alone.


	56. Chapter 56

The Prince wondered at his luck. He had feared that Estel would bring up his having mentioned that Faelthîr knew of where to find Mithfindl. If his Minyatar had questioned him about this, he would have known at once that Legolas was lying, and then suspicion would have arisen. Even Estel had noticed how tense the laegel had become with Elrond and Thranduil in the room – his fear over their learning of his plans and of his deception about Faelthîr was the cause of it. But now, he breathed deeply upon hearing his Minyatar tell the Ranger and sentry to come outside to the hall, for it meant that at least for tonight he might have evaded Elrond’s inquisitiveness.

Once Elrond, Kalin, and Estel were outside, the door shut behind them, his father stood from the couch and came to where Legolas sat on the trunk at the foot of his bed. He sat close to the Prince so that their hips were touching, their thighs lay flush, and their knees knocked together in pleasantly familiar comfort. Even still, if he hadn’t known that the others were outside and that Kalin and Estel would not stray far, and thus that they remained within hearing distance, Legolas might have felt some fear. His father was acting strangely, his face was perfervid with an unknown but resolute sentiment, and as always, Legolas was discomfited by his father’s sudden nearness, as throughout his life his King had usually only come near when violence motivated him.

With an unusual but welcomed fatherly devotion, Thranduil wrapped one arm around Legolas’ shoulders to pull him close, while with his other arm he reached up to the young Wood-Elf’s face to draw his head to rest upon his King’s upper chest. In response, the laegel slid his own arms around his father’s waist. For years beyond count, the laegel had desired such affection from his father instead of the usual cold indifference, sometimes-hateful invectives, and the all too often enraged beatings. He gladly accepted it now.

“I have not told you enough, my son, how much I love you,” the King said without prelude. Thranduil was doing as Elrond had told Estel to do – he was saying his goodbyes in case Legolas did not live beyond the removal of the periapt the next evening. The Elf-King would say his piece and ask for his son’s forgiveness, but hope that the Prince would wish to live.

He told his son, “I have let my own grief and sorrow cloud my mind. I have asked you to be a better warrior, a better Prince, and a better Elf than I have ever been in hopes that you would not suffer the same difficulties as I have, but instead, I have only pushed you away, leading you by violence rather than by example. And you have been better than ever I was, Legolas, in all those things. You have always been better than I ever was. I think we have your mother to thank for that. It would have been a shame had I succeeded and you had turned out just like me.”

How oddly his father spoke to him. If he didn’t know better, Legolas would think that his King had some inkling of his plans for the morrow. But being as he was not tied to a bed, locked in a room, or under armed guard, there was no way that his father had any clue as to what his son would do come tomorrow. The Prince closed his eyes, his anxiety falling away from him in the relief of his father’s acceptance. The inconstant light of the candles and lamps in the room fluttered through his closed lids, flickering as if he were looking at the stars in the vast dark sky overhead instead of in his rooms. He had often done this as a child while inside at night – looking through his closed lids at the candlelight, that is, while pretending that it was starlight. As he did this now, he felt much the Elfling that he was to his Ada. For this brief moment, and perhaps for the first time in his adult life, Legolas considered turning to his father for help, thinking that perhaps his Ada was the only one who might condone his actions tomorrow, who might think better of him after all was said and done. In the end, his King might truly be proud of him for what he would do.

But his father began speaking again and Legolas let the chance pass by him. He could not risk his King learning of his intentions beforehand.

“I came to Imladris to remedy this, to reconcile with you, to start anew, and though this was no lie, it was selfish of me. I came here thinking still that you would change for me should I apologize, when it is I who should be changing for you. I should have been a better father to you.” The King sighed heavily. He rested his cheek on the Prince’s head, by happenstance lighting upon the swollen knot Legolas had earned from falling into the footboard of the bed. His voice growing quieter as his thoughts grew darker, Thranduil claimed, “Your mother would be ashamed of me. She would be ashamed of how I have treated you.”

A pang of agonized grief lanced through the Wood-Elf Prince’s chest; it came on his father’s behalf. He no more wanted his father to suffer guilt for the past than he wanted to suffer guilt for the past. Peculiarly, or so it seemed to Legolas, Thranduil spoke as if he would never see his progeny again, though the sire thought this was true for different reasons than the son. His words had the same effect upon Legolas regardless and he sought to ease his father’s sorrow.

“No, Adar, she would not. Nana would be ashamed of me,” the laegel argued. He felt his father stiffen around him, for the King was still swathed over the slighter Elf. Just this caused Legolas to open his eyes in anticipation of his father’s violence, but he did not stop. “She would be ashamed of how I have acted, of what I have done. She would be ashamed that I disobeyed you, that I threatened you. Were she alive, perchance none of this would have happened, but I can only be glad that none of this happened before she passed. I would not want her to have seen what I have become.”

He could feel his father’s anger; it emanated from the elder Elf as heat does from an oven. So accustomed was he to perceiving the King’s moods that Legolas did not need to see Thranduil’s face or hear him speak before he knew that he had upset his Ada. Before he could apologize, before he could diffuse his King’s ire, Thranduil released the Prince suddenly, pushing him back so that he could look into the younger Elf’s face, while nearly causing Legolas to fall to the floor at the sudden loss of support.

“Quiet,” Thranduil whispered harshly. Taking the younger Elf’s shoulders in hand, the Elf-King shook Legolas roughly a time or two. “Your mother would never have been ashamed of you. She loved you more than she loved anything in this world. She loved you more than she loved me, Legolas, as well she should have. You were the greatest joy of her life.”

Again, the aggravated King shook the pliant Prince, causing the young Silvan’s head to snap back and forth with the forcefulness with which he was pulled and shoved. Suddenly, Thranduil seemed to realize what he was doing; at once, he released the Prince again, who folded into himself, his shoulders hunched over, his head down, and his arms crossed over his belly as if to avoid the imminent blows. His father had seen this same obeisant reaction on innumerable occasions and it had never stopped him from venting his wrath upon the laegel; however, it stopped him now summarily.

“I am sorry,” his father told him as he gathered the younger, kinder version of himself back into his arms, though this time Legolas did not return the embrace.

He had endured his father’s ire many times before, but he had thought never to endure it again if only because he hadn’t expected to see his father angry before he was gone tomorrow. Likewise, he had thought he might never see his Ada again after the morrow.

Thranduil had said that he was sorry in the past and the Prince had always felt that his King never meant it. This time, he held no doubt that his father was sorry for what he had done. He hadn’t truly hurt Legolas, anyway, although he had startled him. Tears formed in Thranduil’s algid blue eyes. It was then that the Elvenking told Legolas what he had earlier told Estel and Elrond, saying, “I wish that I had tried to be your father and friend, rather than just your King. I am sorry, my son. You were your mother’s joy, but she was mine, and when she was gone, I could find little joy in you. I could only see her every time I looked at you and you were no replacement for her. I could only see that I had failed her – and you – upon her death. But it was not your fault. None of it was your fault. Just as none of this is your fault. Again and again, you have atoned for someone else’s transgressions – most of them mine. Please, my son, forgive me.”

His father had asked for forgiveness the day that he had arrived in the valley and Legolas had given it then. Willingly, easily, the benevolent and loving Silvan, who would gladly have given his sire everything he had and everything that he was, as he would do for all those whom he loved, found it within himself to tell his King, “Of course, you are forgiven, Ada, if you forgive me, as well. Neither of us has treated the other well.”

Legolas had heard what his father told Elrond hours ago when they all thought he was unconscious. His father had asked the Peredhel what weakness of mind, what perversion or madness had caused the Prince to allow himself to be despoilt. He had insulted the Prince’s love for Estel and called it repulsive. Moreover, he had told Elrond and Estel that Legolas’ body was tainted and impure, that his faer ought to flee from his fouled rhaw.

He had also heard his Minyatar argue to his father that it was Thranduil’s poor treatment of the Prince that had been the basis for Legolas’ lack of care in defending himself, in his having given himself as trade for his father’s interests and the Ranger’s life. He did not want to remind his King of this conversation, for he knew that his father must have been embarrassed to be lectured by Elrond as if he were a child, especially in front of Estel. The laegel also did not want to hear his father’s opinion of his supposedly befouled body or how he thought the Prince ought to die. And yet, the young Silvan wanted his King to know that he did not hold any of this against him.

“I am no Elfling,” he told his father, pressing his head against Thranduil’s broad chest and feeling the King’s breath coming in soft gulps as he tried to contain his tears, “so I cannot blame you for who I am any longer. Long have I been of age to carve my own path through life. If I have not strayed from the path you set before me, of who you wanted me to be, then it is my fault for not having the courage to change course and not your fault any longer for having set me upon that course.”

With a snort and then an outright chuckle, the relieved Elvenking told the Prince, “You speak truthfully, wisely. I think the years you have spent here in the valley have made you sound more like Elrond than me. Not that I complain. Elrond was right – he said that I cannot blame you for being who I shaped you to be, but you are right also, because you are my son, not myself, and should be who you desire to be. We were both wrong, Legolas. Let us set it behind us.”

Eagerly, Legolas compelled himself harder into his father’s embrace, once more wrapping his arms around his Ada’s torso. The Prince was not naïve. If for some reason he were to remain amongst his friends and family or even if he left tomorrow as planned and still lived long enough to one day manage to return to his father, he knew that the King would lose his temper and likely hit him again. It was his father’s way and had been for too long to amend without difficulty, despite his belief that Thranduil truly desired reconciliation and change. But for the laegel, who found it hard to hold grudges and forgave easily, these apologies expunged all the many years of abuse he had suffered.

_I am glad that he has said these things tonight. I am glad that I have found this amity with him before I have left. It will make it easier on him, perhaps, afterwards._

All of this had come too late and the Prince knew it. He wished that his father had said these things to him months ago, years ago, or even days ago, but at least he said them now. On the cusp of abandoning his King, Legolas would never be able to enjoy the reconciliation of which they spoke. Nonetheless, still he agreed and nodded his head against his father’s chest.

“It is good that you have Estel,” his father ungrudgingly admitted. Thranduil released the Prince and by his shoulders held him out from him so that he could look into Legolas’ face once again. “I am content that you have found love for him and from him. If he is your joy, my son, then I am happy for it. I know how painful it is to lose one’s joy in life, so I should have known better than to try to keep you from him. We must all find happiness where we can.”

Thranduil smiled at Thranduilion, who beamed back at his father. He had never thought that his father would accept Estel, had expected that he would end up disowned by his King and maybe even cast out of Eryn Galen as a traitor. He had thought that his father would never try to understand his actions or his love for the Ranger. Legolas had been wrong. After all the many years of arguing, of violence, of hate and shame, Thranduil was finally offering Legolas peace. Gratefully, the Prince accepted it for however long he could enjoy it. Again, his father opened his arms for him and the laegel entered them happily. He could not have asked for a better memory of his father to take with him on the morrow, though still he had to wonder what had prompted his King into speaking as if he were saying goodbye.

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The Ranger’s thoughts ran along the same path as his lover’s thoughts, for both had seen the strange fervency in Thranduil’s face, which before had often meant that the King was infuriated with the Prince. At one point in time – in the last week, actually – Estel would have hesitated at leaving the King alone with the Prince because he feared the Elvenking’s heavy-handedness with his son. But now, Aragorn could not imagine Thranduil hitting the Prince. Perhaps one day the King would lose his temper and strike the laegel again, but not anytime soon, not after what he had seen Legolas suffer from Mithfindl. Moreover, Aragorn imagined that should Thranduil lose his temper and strike the Prince – for millennia-old habits were hard to break – then the King would immediately regret it and it would never progress to the volatile state in which son and sire had been accustomed to prior to recent months.

“Estel,” his Ada began once Legolas’ door was closed, pulling the Ranger by the arm into his room across the hall.

Kalin followed along behind without being asked, knowing that Elrond would likely put him to question, as well. Once more, as he was yanked to his room, the Ranger wondered at how easily the sentry had forgiven him and how they had both simply forgotten the discord between them, although it had mostly been one-sided anyway. Just the day before, Kalin had almost slit his throat but here they were again – allies in aiding the Prince.

They gathered in the dark of his bedchamber, the door left open so that they could see any who came into the hall and Legolas’ room across the way. His father asked him, “What has happened?”

He knew what he was being asked. Legolas seemed inexplicably content – or at least, unnaturally so since the Wood-Elf had only hours earlier intimated that he wished to die. But the Ranger had no true answer for Elrond and so could only tell him, “I am not certain. When Greenleaf awoke, he was as he is now – smiling, joking, making plans for the future. As you have heard, he wanted to eat and bathe. He asked me to stay with him, to spend the night with him, when I thought he might not want me near. He even spoke of going on our hunting trip once all of this is over.”

“It seems a blessing too good to be true,” the Peredhel ruminated quietly, stroking his chin and pulling at his lower lip in serious contemplation. Suddenly, his father’s hand flew away from his face and seized the front of Estel’s shirt, fisting tightly, almost painfully, in the cloth above his chest. Taken by adamant concern, his father implored, “Estel. Legolas told us that you used the periapt this morning to keep him from remembering his torment, of trying to seduce you into tormenting him to keep his father safe. Tell me that you did not use the periapt again to force this good cheer upon him.”

The human might have been upset to be accused had he not already that morning used the charm to quell his lover’s pessimistic dolor, just as his father said. “I promise you, Ada, I did not,” he swore. “I would not.”

“No one has used it, Lord Elrond.” Beside him, Kalin came forward, looking as if he might interfere should Elrond turn violent, but the Noldo had already released Estel’s shirt and in absentminded, paternal affection, smoothed out the crumpled cloth. The sentry was habituated to his King taking out his anger on his Prince, but of course, Elrond would never strike one of his children in anger. He had only been overcome with concern. Kalin promised the Elf Lord, “I was with my Prince up until the moment that he and Estel bathed. Legolas awoke just as Estel claims – refreshed, calm, and strangely happy. No one had access to him prior to then except myself and I would never compel my Prince in such a way.”

Kalin’s assurance that he would not use the periapt was overlooked because both Elrond and Estel did not even consider that the sentry might, as they knew that Kalin would rather his Prince die than be subjugated further. No one would have been able to use the stone in Kalin’s presence, for that matter, because Kalin would have killed, maimed, or otherwise seriously injured anyone who tried to enthrall Legolas further. If the sentry had been present when Thranduil used the stone earlier that day, Legolas would already be dead, for Kalin would have fought the King to keep his Prince from being enslaved to his father’s will and the laegel would have found respite in letting the light from his soul fade to the nothingness of shadow.

“It is an act,” the Adan told them as he had previously decided himself. “He is trying not to worry us. But even so, I think it will be good for him to have spent tonight as he has, to pretend to be happy rather than wallow in sorrow, so that on the morrow he will have had tonight to bolster his faer.”

He did not say why it would be beneficial for the Elf to be in good cheer for tomorrow’s night. They were each acutely aware of the impending moment that Legolas might die. Reminding himself of this moment caused the Ranger to sit heavily onto his bed, which is when he noticed that his room was now straightened. When Kalin had been charged earlier with getting linens, bedding, and towels to help Elrond and Thranduil tend the Prince, he had stripped them from Estel’s bed and thus thrown everything upon it to the floor without a second thought. Now, all that had been thrown to the floor and what had already been in the floor was neatly put away. Fresh linens were placed upon the bed, new towels sat on the washstand, and the window was open again to let in the cool night air.

At seeing the Ranger look around in confusion about the state of his chamber, Kalin offered, “I was picking up the mess I’d made of your things when Faidnil came by. He helped me to put them away and then found clean sheets for your bed.” Kalin looked around the room with a satisfied smile, “It looks cleaner than it did before I made a mess. You should be pleased. If Faidnil is willing to clean for you, then he has accepted you as Legolas’ mate, which is one of the first steps to having the rest of Eryn Galen accept you.”

The Adan couldn’t help but to laugh. He already knew that Faidnil held the King’s ear more closely than his advisors and wondered if what Kalin said was true about the servant having accepted him as his Prince’s mate. It was a discussion for another time, though, so he only said, “It is cleaner, which will suit you fine, Kalin, since I suggest that you make yourself at home in here; at least while Legolas is still in danger from Mithfindl.”

The Wood-Elf sentry was nodding, having already intended to stay in Estel’s room but having not yet asked for permission from the Ranger. “I will. But I doubt I will sleep until Mithfindl is found.”

From where he sat, Aragorn watched his father, who still stood as before, rubbing his chin as he thought, but all of their attention turned to the hall when Thranduil exited the Prince’s rooms, a relieved smile upon his face. He saw them in the Ranger’s room and at once came directly to Estel, who stood from the bed at his approach. He was surprised when the King took him by the forearm, giving it a friendly squeeze before he let go.

Thranduil exclaimed to the Ranger, “I do not know what you have said to him, what you have done, but already he is better. I can feel it. His faer does not suffer as it did before.”

“I have done little except remind him that we all love him, that we do not hold him accountable, and that he can heal,” he told the King. In the dense shadows of the night, the three fair Elves around him seemed almost to glow, so pale was their skin, but Thranduil’s optimism shined brighter than any light in the hall or the moon’s radiance trickling through the window. The King, Estel saw, thought that his son would live after tomorrow.

“Well, it has been enough. I did as you suggested,” Thranduil told Elrond, turning to him. Legolas was only unaccompanied inside his room for a minute thus far, but it was a minute too long for Kalin, who wordlessly left them to reenter his Prince’s chambers so that Legolas would not be alone. Neither Elrond nor Thranduil seemed to notice the unobtrusive sentry’s departure. “I asked again for his forgiveness, made promises for reconciliation, and reminded him that I loved him. He will choose to live. My son will live,” the Woodland King proclaimed softly.

Despite holding suspicions over Legolas’ abrupt change of mood, Elrond did not voice those misgivings aloud to Thranduil, whose joy was not feigned and who needed some reason to hope as much as did Legolas. However, he did warn the Elf-King, “Do not mistake his contentment now as lasting. I agree that our Greenleaf does seem to be willing to endure, but as you must know, Thranduil, grief is like the tide upon the beach, coming and going in waves, and sometimes falling back only to return stronger than before. The sand must always submit to the sea. His grief will never cease and will continue to wear him down, just as the waves lap away the beach.”

“Then we must never cease to build him back up,” the King pledged, looking at the Ranger as he said so, for in the end, it would be Estel’s task to see this done.

Thranduil, Elrond, the twins, and all of the laegel’s other friends and those whom he loved as family would do what they could, but despite their having known Legolas for most if not all of his life, it would ultimately be Aragorn who had the greatest chance to save the Prince, though he had known Legolas the least amount of time. As his lover, he had the most influence upon the Prince, truly, but furthermore, the Ranger had done this for the Elf before and so they kept faith that he could do it again.

With a sigh, Elrond placed a comforting hand upon both the King and the Ranger’s shoulders, promising, “That we will. But come, Thranduil. Let us leave the young ones to sleep. Our sons need their rest. Tomorrow will be a trying day for all.”

Still smiling, his positivity not at all weakened by Elrond’s caution, Thranduil again squeezed the Adan’s forearm in gratitude. “Goodnight, Estel. Take good care of my son, please.”

“Goodnight… and you need not worry about Greenleaf. He will always be cared for while I still breathe,” he pledged to the King, though he said it not to please Thranduil but as reaffirmation to himself of his intent, adding, “I will see that he has what he needs and I will do whatever I can to remind him of the joy to be found in life.”

Something about his statement caused the King’s cheer to falter momentarily; his unwrinkled, smooth brow and usually stoic visage crumpled like a dry, autumn leaf crushed underfoot, before smoothing out again, though his optimism was now subdued as he alluded to the Adan, “He has already found his joy, for you are his joy. You are what he needs.”

Thranduil explained no further but began to walk away, though Elrond gave his human foster son a melancholy, fleeting smile before he began away with the Elvenking. Peredhel Lord and Sindarin King had reformed their old friendship, it seemed, or were at least united in common purpose. _They will likely take no rest but be up all night, perhaps together, worrying over Greenleaf._

Before they had walked far, Elrond stopped, turned around, and reminded the Ranger, who smiled at how already his father evinced that his thoughts had not strayed from his worry for the laegel, “Do not forget to have Legolas drink his tea, and for you to drink your tea, as well. It will ease your aches and his pains, and a good night’s rest is the best cure for many of life’s ills. We will see you both in the morning.”

The Adan nodded in acquiescence that he would, saying, “Goodnight, Ada.”

His father’s tea would make him sleepy, he knew, and the Ranger would rather remain awake. If this were to be his last night with his Elven lover, then he was not missing a moment of it. He would hold the laegel in his arms, watch every flutter of his eyes as he dreamt, and listen to every soft breath. But he would see to it that Legolas took his tea. He walked from his room and watched as the two elder Elves whispered together while walking towards the slight bend of the corridor, likely headed to the stairs that led upwards to Elrond’s study and apothecary on the floor above them. He thought of how just the day prior he had spoken to Legolas in that part of the hall and then taken the Elf outside to speak to him in the pleasance. It was this same pleasance where Mithfindl had attacked Galendil and then ravaged the Wood-Elf Prince.

_Mithfindl. I have forgotten about finding Mithfindl, about Faelthîr._

“Wait,” he called out to stop his father and lover’s father, running to the curve in the hall around which the two had just disappeared. He caught up to them as they halted; he strode the last few steps to reach them, saying as he did, “So eager was I to speak of Legolas, I nearly forgot to tell you what he spoke of to me.”

He paused to look back down the corridor to make sure that Legolas had not come out into the hall to see what his shouting had been about, before telling them, “Greenleaf remembers all of Mithfindl’s last instructions to him and they did not end with killing me. He had more planned for Legolas.”

“What did he tell you?” his father asked him at once, stepping forward to clear the space between them until they were nearly touching. His Ada had been overwrought the last few days and his usual patience was readily broken because of it. He could see from their faces that they had assumed, as had he, that killing Estel was the last act of Mithfindl’s revenge, and thus were surprised to learn otherwise.

“Greenleaf said that once he killed me, he was to flee the valley. He said that Mithfindl spoke of his being followed; he knew that he would be caught and that’s why he fled. Legolas was to meet Mithfindl somewhere,” the Ranger told them as his lover had told him. And now, the elders’ faces were glooming, with Thranduil’s earlier cheerfulness hastening into outrage.

“To meet him? For what purpose?” Thranduil asked, though his nose curled up and he sneered, his question going unanswered, for the King very well knew what more Mithfindl wanted from his son. Fiery and potent, a flush of anger rose from Thranduil’s neck and up his cheeks as his mind supplied to him the answer to his own question. Focusing upon vengeance, just as had Estel upon hearing his Elven lover tell him this earlier, the Woodland King charged, “But if he was to meet him, then he knows where Mithfindl is. We can find him.”

“He does not know. He was to be led to this place by Faelthîr, as Mithfindl thought that she was not suspected. In fact, Legolas reasoned, and it seems sensible to me, that Mithfindl did not believe that we knew of the periapts, for how else would Legolas have gone to meet him had we known and removed it? Unless, perhaps, Faelthîr had been told to replace the periapt if she remained unsuspected,” he considered, his gaze absently upon the stone of the wall as his elucidation trailed off when his thoughts led him astray from his purpose of explaining to the Elves what Legolas had told him.

“But he nearly killed Greenleaf today. Why would he think Greenleaf would be physically capable of coming to him after the injury he did to him?” the Peredhel wondered, fiddling with the silver buttons lining the front of his crimson robe as he spoke.

Elrond directed his query to Estel, who knew the answer, for the Silvan Prince had given it to him. He told them, “Legolas said that he didn’t believe Mithfindl meant to be as violent, as thorough in his beating as he was. Even still, since Mithfindl used the periapt to keep Greenleaf from fading from grief and his body from giving in to injury, he would have expected Legolas to arrive once he was able. Mithfindl waits for him.”

As earlier, the Ranger’s wrath grew as he thought of Mithfindl, of what the Noldo planned for Legolas upon his reunion with his thrall. He lusted for the chance to take his vengeance upon the Noldorin Elf as he had Kane, Cort, and Sven. Despite his love of the wilds and his oath as a Ranger to protect the innocent, Aragorn had little love for killing. He did not share in the same absolute hatred of Goblins and other foul creatures as did the twins and Prince, although he never hesitated to slaughter them when in danger or protecting others, and often joined his brothers and Greenleaf upon their hunts for the pleasure of their company rather than the need for reprisal. And yet, even now his mind filled with vile thoughts, with torments similar to those that had been perpetrated upon Legolas, ideas of the many ways in which he could cause the Noldorin Elf to suffer, and of the excruciation that he wished he could exact upon Mithfindl.

When noticing that neither Elf replied to him, the Ranger turned his gaze away from the wall and forced his contemplations from the soothing, revengeful violence that captured it. _I ought not to think such thoughts,_ he told himself, blinking his eyes to drive away the imaginings. _I will end up no better than Mithfindl if I continue to think like him._

In agitated silence, Elrond and Thranduil looked to each other. In some vague way, the two reminded the Ranger of Elrohir and Elladan, for the Peredhel and Elvenking seemed to be speaking to each other without words, just as the twins often did. For several long moments, the two Elves stayed that way, neither twitching an eye nor moving a muscle, until his father turned to him, saying, “Erestor questioned her hours ago, shortly after he left here – or at least he tried to question her. She will not speak. She only cries.”

The Elf-King crossed his arms over his broad chest and swore to Elrond and Estel, “She will speak. I will see that she does.”

Estel realized now that he had begun the end of it all. If they found Mithfindl, Legolas would be safe, he would be avenged, and whether he lived or died, Legolas would be free of the periapt – both of them. And yet, the Ranger wanted to hunt down Mithfindl with his brothers and Glorfindel. He wanted to be there to see the Noldo die, if he fought to his death, or to bring Mithfindl back for Elrond’s punishment, if he could keep himself from killing the detestable, crass bastard before then. He could not leave the Prince, though, and thought, _If they try to question Faelthîr tonight and find out where Mithfindl has gone, they will leave immediately, which means I will be left behind._

“Tomorrow.” Aragorn looked back to the shut door to the Prince’s room, wherein his lover waited for him. Legolas wanted Estel to stay with him, to eat and bathe, which they had done, but now to sleep, which the Adan was looking forward to greatly, as his arms craved to hold the Silvan with a thirst akin to how a drunkard’s tongue craved the taste of mead. He very much wanted to be present to question Faelthîr, to be a part of the plans to hunt Mithfindl, but he would not forsake Legolas to do so, not even if it meant being there to bring Mithfindl back or bring him down. “Please. Let us press her again tomorrow for information. If she has withstood Erestor, then perhaps she needs to face those whom she has hurt the most.”

“You do not mean Legolas?” his father asked him while Thranduil was nodding his agreement with Elrond. “I will not allow it. I will not allow Faelthîr to be close to our Greenleaf again.”

The Ranger appreciated the deathly wrath that his father and his lover’s father were showing. A part of him feared that his foster father would decide to force Mithfindl into sailing to Valinor or just cast him out of Elvendom, branded a rapist and attempted murderer. He wanted no clemency for Mithfindl.

Estel explained, “No, I meant the King and myself, perhaps Kalin, and with you there, as well, Ada. Let us put her to question. We can rouse her from her silence. She shared Kalin’s bed; she drugged him. Even if she had no personal hand in tormenting Legolas, she must surely feel some guilt for treating Kalin so poorly. And to be faced with you,” he said to Thranduil, “who has the most right to seek revenge as Greenleaf’s father and his sovereign… well, she will fear for her life, I would wager, and rightfully so. I doubt she will be swayed into talking by my presence, but I think I can be of aid in questioning her since I know best the details we have learnt about her and Mithfindl’s scheme. Perhaps, also, she has learnt from Kalin, while he was drugged, the fates of the human wine merchants who dared to harm Legolas.”

“Then let us do it now,” the King argued. His zeal to see this done was heartening to Estel, for if Thranduil wanted Mithfindl dead, as he claimed earlier, Aragorn imagined that his father would find it hard to deny the King the justice he sought on his son’s behalf.

 _I am not leaving Legolas tonight. Not for a moment longer._ Again, he looked back to the laegel’s door. Within, Kalin was laughing loudly, merrily, more than likely at something that his Prince had done or said. Just hearing Kalin’s jubilant cachinnations fomented the Ranger’s desire to be back in the room. The sentry was a mirthful sort, as was his Prince, but Kalin had little to laugh about as of late, though the same was true for them all. But if Kalin was laughing, more than likely Legolas was smiling or laughing, also, and Estel was covetous of every smile that he might see his upon his Greenleaf’s beautiful face before the imminent reckoning.

“Tomorrow, please,” he asked the two Elves afore him. Not mincing his words, he told them, “I will not leave Greenleaf tonight. Besides, Legolas reasoned that Mithfindl would have anticipated that it would take a few days for Legolas to arrive, especially after his having beaten him so severely, so surely Mithfindl will be waiting for him. He wants Legolas’ torture and ruin more than he desires anything in this world. He will wait for his pet to return,” the Ranger told them in disgust, nausea roiling in his belly at his choice of words, though it was Legolas who had called himself thusly when speaking of Mithfindl’s instructions to him.

Thranduil took the Ranger’s forearm in hand for a third time this night. In the diffuse illumination from the airshaft overhead, the King’s hair was as white as the moon from which the light came. His grip light, gentle, the Elf-King promised, “Tomorrow then. I would not have you leave Legolas, either. There will be time aplenty for us to hunt Mithfindl, but we may have only a short time with my son.”

Elrond was swayed by the King’s words, his own impatience to question Faelthîr and thus find Mithfindl assuaged by the reminder of what was truly important this night. “I will tell Erestor and Glorfindel of what we have learnt from Greenleaf, but the search will not stop. Tomorrow morning,” his father dictated, “you, I, Thranduil, and Kalin, if he is willing to leave his Prince, will question Faelthîr for answers, if no sign of Mithfindl has been found before then. I suppose it is as you say – wherever he hides, it would take him some time to arrive there, since he’d want to be far enough away from the valley so that he wouldn’t be easily found, and he is most likely willing to wait for Legolas’ arrival.” 

Without further discussion, the two Elves began away again. Estel watched them walk to the stairwell before he remembered Kalin’s laugh from a few moments ago. As he trotted back to the Prince’s door, the Ranger only hoped that he hadn’t missed his lover smiling.


	57. Chapter 57

Aragorn had missed the conversation that had led to Kalin’s laughter, but he did not miss his lover’s smile. His unannounced entry into Legolas’ rooms was just soon enough to catch the Prince beaming widely at Kalin, who was still chuckling at what his liege said to him. Although they both turned to greet the Adan with smiles, their conversation did not cease, and from where he sat upon the younger Wood-Elf’s bed, Kalin finished what he’d been telling his Prince, “Had I been born a hundred years earlier than I was, Nimrol would have been your head sentry, rather than me. I was deemed too young as it was by your father and only earned the position by Ninan’s support of me.”

“Estel,” his lover greeted him quietly from where he was curled up on the couch. He beckoned the Ranger to sit by patting the cushioned seat beside him, explaining vaguely, “Kalin and I were talking of days long before your birth, when I was little more than an Elfling and Kalin already ancient.”

“I am only two-hundred years older than you,” the sentry told his liege indulgently, frowning in mock hurt to be called old. Kalin complained to his grinning Prince, “Didn’t your Ada ever tell you to be polite to your elders?”

Two-hundred years seemed like an unbelievably long time to Estel, who wasn’t yet close to living even a quarter that length of time. “That explains it,” he interjected solemnly, seriously, as if about to tell them something dire. With grave purpose, he crossed the room to them, saying, “If Legolas is older than the dirt in which the trees grow, then you must be older than the rocks on which the dirt lays, Kalin.”

Both surprised Wood-Elves laughed at the Ranger’s unexpected teasing, to Estel’s delight. He settled in beside his lover, his breast heavy with the simultaneous sorrow of knowing that the Prince’s happiness might be short-lived – quite literally – and the jubilant gratitude of seeing Legolas enjoying himself.

“Kalin was just about to tell me of my birthing feast,” the Prince told Aragorn. Legolas scooted closer to the Adan such that he slid one shoulder in behind the Ranger’s arm and could lean against the human.

While the Secondborn tended to celebrate the day of birth, the Firstborn celebrated the day of conception, but even still, upon birth great feasts were sometimes held for much anticipated Elflings. Legolas’ birth had been no exception, for the King and Queen of the Greenwood had desired a child keenly; upon the Prince’s birth, the Silvan people in Eryn Galen were ecstatic for their King and especially their beloved Queen. Estel could not imagine a time when Thranduil cherished his son. Even now, though the Elvenking wanted the Prince to live, it was hardly recompense for the awful way in which he had treated Legolas since the Queen’s death.

And so, it was with eagerness to learn of Thranduil’s lost love for his son that Estel listened to Kalin as he told them, addressing his Prince, “A few days after you were born, once the Queen had recuperated from bearing you, King Thranduil threw a feast unlike any that has occurred in the Greenwood during my life and one that has not been rivaled in the years since.” The sentry’s eyes were glazed over, his head tilted slightly to the side, as he lost himself in the nostalgia of his story. “I have never seen our King so content. Thranduil loved to celebrate and feast and did so more often then than he does now – just as the Silvan love revelry, which is likely why the Wood-Elves in the Greenwood have always loved him as our wisest, most fair, and greatest King. He was beyond generous for this celebration. Old quarrels were forgotten and Elves from all over Middle Earth were invited, including anyone from Imladris and Lothlórien who wished to attend. Competitions were held where sizable sums of gold and jewels were contested for, and every child received a finely made, Elfling-sized bow and quiver for a present. No expense was spared for our King wanted all to remember this celebration as the finest. In fact,” the sentry told them with a wry smirk, “Faidnil once told me that we went through thirty-two barrels of Dorwinion wine over the course of those three days of feasting, which was every barrel in the King’s stores at the time.”

Estel wasn’t sure what had set the sentry and Prince to talking about days past. Barrels, the Prince’s mother, his birth, his father, wine – all these topics and so many more or the slightest word or memory recalled at the wrong time and Legolas’ sorrow could revisit him manifold. It was as Elrond had told Kalin the night before, when helping the laegel through his shame and agony after Glorfindel’s questioning, though Estel had not been there to hear it – each time Legolas fell into grief, it was harder for him to climb out of it to return to them, and the human did not want his lover to feel any unhappiness this night.

With half his attention for Kalin and half spent ascertaining that the Prince was not becoming melancholy from the sentry’s remembrances, Estel slipped his arm behind the laegel’s back to wrap around his waist, and in return, Legolas nestled against the Ranger’s side, his head lying softly upon the man’s chest, though his eyes were upon his sentry. In the warm light of the candles and lamps, Kalin was motionless, golden, and just as striking as Legolas, by Aragorn’s opinion, for the oftentimes harried sentry was peculiarly tranquil in his peaceful wistfulness. Estel dismissed his worry for Legolas, who was affectionately watching his fellow Silvan; the Ranger listened.

“There was enough meat to feed the whole Shire for a month, with stews and gravies and breads of all kinds to go with it. Vegetables sweet or salted or spiced, baked and broiled and boiled and some so fresh from the ground that they were still wet with that morning’s dew. Every Wood-Elf in the forest came to your father’s halls for the celebration – even the border patrol, which is where I was when word came that the Queen and King had been graced with a healthy son.”

The sentry paused to look at Estel and Legolas, for he had been staring without focus at the room around him, as if he saw instead the memories he invoked of that pleasant time of his King’s life. “Everyone wanted a peek of the new Prince. They lined up to walk past the table where your father and mother sat, offering their love and blessings and gifts in informal, typical Silvan fashion, with many drunken toasts and slurred but heartfelt promises of loyalty. I will never forget waiting in that line to get my glimpse of you, though I wondered what the fuss was about. Ninan was already captain of the guard then and he ordered all of the sentries and patrol to file past the royal table so that we could reassert our fealty and service to the King.”

Legolas was listening raptly to his sentry, appearing much to Aragorn as if the Prince were a child hearing a bedtime story. The Ranger discerned that the laegel knew little of his mother since she died when the Prince was young. For that reason, Estel knew little of the Queen, either, for even what the laegel remembered he did not often speak of to anyone. Aragorn feared that Kalin’s tale would only serve to upset Legolas and wondered why Kalin seemed intent to tell it until he realized abruptly, _In his own way, Kalin is saying to Legolas what he needs his Prince to hear, just as we have all been saying our farewells to Greenleaf._

With a sigh, the sentry began again, now looking out the open balcony doors to the night sky above the valley, “The Queen sat at the feast table in an expensive, jewel decorated gown the color of the underside of a silver maple leaf, wearing a crown of ivy interspersed with white and purple calla lilies; glittering opals and amethyst were set in a silver necklace around her throat; her hair was the starkly bright color of the winter sun and fluttered loose in the spring’s breeze – but none of that was why she was the most beautiful she-Elf in the Greenwood that night. Your mother, our Queen, was always lovely, but that night and ever after she was the most striking Elleth I had ever seen and have seen since, my Prince, for the bliss you brought to her made her more radiant than any of Elbereth’s designs. She seldom took her eyes off of you during the whole feast. Your Naneth smiled often, laughed easily, and was always a kind, gentle Elleth, whom we all loved for her merry nature, but never more so than after you were born. She was our same beloved Queen and yet, somehow she was even more prone to smile, to laugh, to be merry, and to extend her hand in kindness, all because of her joy to have you.”

Kalin had just described the Prince; or at least, how the Prince usually was, though recent events had cast a pall over his normal merriness. Estel had often heard the twins and Elrond say that Legolas had inherited his mother’s grace, laughter, and love of nature, not to mention having inherited her beauty, while from Thranduil the Prince had gained determination, quickness, the natural propensity for combat and archery, and his sharp mind. Again, Estel looked to Legolas to see that his lover was not becoming upset at hearing of his Naneth when his faer was already burdened with sorrow, but the Prince was still smiling, seemingly enjoying Kalin’s whimsical description of the Queen.

“Long I waited while all those of higher rank than was I had their chance to speak to the King, until it was almost my turn to pledge my allegiance again. Being so young, I was barely more than an Elfling myself, and had been a guard for only a few months, so was one of the last to offer my fealty again. As I waited before the table, ready to do as all the other guards, eager to be off to enjoy the food and drink and gaiety, I saw you for the first time, my Prince.” With a light laugh, Kalin admitted to Legolas, “You were a tiny thing, so swallowed in the swaddling blanket wrapped around you that only your face could be seen. I could have fit you in the palm of my hand or spirited you away in my pocket. But you were no fairer or no more interesting than any other Elfling I had seen, although you had your mother’s eyes and smile. But I thought little of it, or you, until during my wait I happened to notice our Queen.”

Tears brimmed in the sentry’s eyes but they were not of melancholy. His gaze quit wandering the room and fixated entirely upon his Prince. Beside the Adan, the laegel had grown eerily still and his breath slight, as though not to miss a single word his sentry spoke. Kalin shook his head and gathered his thoughts, saying, “The Queen bared her breast to feed you. You reached up with your little hand and grabbed her finger as she stroked your face. There were tears of joy upon her cheeks – joy she felt just to have you, to feed you, to feel you in her arms, I suppose. I knew at that moment what my calling in life would be. I knew that it would be my life’s purpose to protect you. Seeing your mother’s unending elation, I felt there would be no greater vocation than to ensure my Queen would never suffer from your being hurt or lost, that to ease her worry for her beloved child would be the noblest of causes. Instead of walking to the King and doing as everyone else had done, saying what all the other guards said to Thranduil, I dropped to my knees before your Naneth and offered my service to her, to you, to protect you then and forevermore.”

“I never knew this,” the Prince whispered softly. Legolas grabbed tightly to Aragorn’s arm, pulling it from behind him, where it had been around his waist, so that he could hug the human’s limb to his chest, with Estel’s hand lying familiarly in the Elf’s lap. Instinctively, Aragorn curled his fingers around the inside of the Wood-Elf’s thigh – the thigh that had once been marred but was as perfect now as it had been the day of the Prince’s birth.

Kalin did not respond to the laegel’s quietly spoken words, for he was lost in his memories. “For the first time that night that I saw, she looked up from you, Legolas. She told me, ‘I will hold you to that oath, sentry.’ Although the feast went on for two more days, I took no further part in it. From the next morning onwards, by her command and my wish, I was assigned to you, where I have watched over you since, just as I promised our Queen before Ilúvatar and all of creation. When your mother died, I told myself that I would make certain that when the time finally came that you were with her again, whether it be in the Halls of Awaiting or at the End when faer is reunited with rhaw, she would have no cause to doubt that I upheld that oath to the best of my ability.”

Beside him, his lover was breathing haltingly, but like Kalin, Legolas didn’t appear gloomy at all; rather, the Wood-Elf Prince was moved by his sentry’s story. For that matter, Aragorn found himself awed by the Silvan sentry. He had often wondered what motivated Kalin’s unflagging devotion to Legolas – it had all started with seeing a mother’s love for her child. Although now Kalin loved his Prince for more than just the oath he’d made to the Queen, he would never have dedicated his life to Legolas had not that moment happened and that pledge been made, and the Prince’s life would have been the poorer for it.

“And you have done a fine job,” the Adan felt compelled to tell the sentry, his voice cracking as his throat twinged from the unspent tears welling in his eyes. He knew that Kalin would likely not agree, since Legolas had certainly come to harm more so these past months than he had ever in his long life, but he assured Kalin, “The Queen would never have regretted accepting your oath.”

“I have never regretted making it.” Kalin stood from where he sat on the bed and walked the short distance to Legolas. “Your father tried to relieve me of that vow today, but I promise you now as I promised your Naneth then, as I have sworn to myself every day since becoming your guard – I am your protector, your ally, and your friend, Legolas, until the end of days.”

It seemed that the Prince had trouble responding to such a selfless and honest declaration. He held out his hand for Kalin’s hand, who took his charge’s limb in his own in companionable silence. Finally, Legolas spoke, though it was with some difficulty. “Estel is right – my Naneth would be pleased to know that you kept your word, that you have kept watch over me when I thought all others had forsaken me or I had forsaken all others. If you had not been here as my protector, ally, and friend the last few days, I would not be sitting here now. Thank you, Kalin.”

Kalin smiled, releasing his Prince’s hand. It was the truest smile that Estel had ever seen upon the sentry’s face and again, Estel realized how much Legolas and the sentry looked alike, though not in the minutiae of their features but in the honest, benevolent, and graceful souls that lay underneath. In that moment, the Adan knew, _It has all been worth it to Kalin. Every worry, every wound, every sleepless night – to hear his Prince’s thank you is all that he requires. Kalin may be a simple Elf, but he is one of the most august beings I have ever met._ Again, he thought, _If Legolas chooses to die on the morrow, Kalin will dutifully follow him the moment that Mithfindl is found and brought to justice._ Perhaps it should have made him sad to think of Kalin’s immortal life ending before its time, and yet, after hearing the sentry’s tale, Estel knew that Kalin would not leave his rhaw behind out of despair, but willingly would do so with abiding loyalty for his Prince.

“I will leave you two for the night. I will be across the hall, should you need me.” Without further word, the contented sentry made to leave, his peace with his Prince now made. “Goodnight.”

“Kalin, wait,” the Prince said firmly, which stopped the sentry in his tracks. As if ordering his loyal guard, though his tender smile gave away his true feelings, Legolas told Kalin, “Please, take a bath. My blood is under your fingernails, in your hair, and upon your clothes, as well. And then, please, try to find sleep. No one will manage to come in here with Oiolaire on the balcony above and Ada’s sentries still at either end of the hall. I will be safe. Take care of yourself this night as you have taken care of me for the last few days, my friend.”

As he did each time that Legolas called him friend, Kalin grinned with artless pleasure and unrelenting love for his Prince. Looking down at his hands, the sentry’s fair brow furrowed to see that Legolas was right. His Prince’s blood was caked under his fingernails from his repeatedly having cleaned the laegel’s face during his bouts of nosebleeds. “I will have a tub brought to Estel’s room, perhaps. He has kindly given me his permission to make use of his room for now.”

Aragorn tensed. He hadn’t yet learnt from Legolas whether he was welcome to share the Prince’s rooms again, as they had these last two months as lovers, and did not want to seem presumptuous in assuming that he would be allowed back into the laegel’s life in all ways that he had been allowed before.

“It is just as well. He spends little time in there anyway. Perhaps one day we will move his chest and other belongings in here so he won’t have to run across the hall nude every time he forgets clothing after a bath,” the Wood-Elf told his sentry, squeezing tenderly the Ranger’s arm that he still held to his chest.

It was then that Aragorn realized that he had his hand betwixt the Wood-Elf’s legs, close to the juncture between them, with his fingers curled under Legolas’ inner thigh such that his lover’s flesh rested upon his hand rather than the cushion underneath. He had given no thought to this before now, as he had done this unthinkingly earlier with a lover’s liberty, but since Legolas had not reacted with fear or repulsion to this intimacy and in fact seemed to welcome it, the Ranger relaxed. Although only a small sign of Legolas’ acceptance of him and a positive indicator of the Prince’s general well-being, it was still a victory to the Adan.

The sentry laughed in lighthearted amusement at his charge’s teasing of the human before saying for a second time, “Goodnight, my Prince. Goodnight, Estel.”

“Goodnight, Kalin,” the Wood-Elf offered in return, watching as the sentry left, shutting the door behind him.

The two lovers were alone once again. They sat together for a short while, the silence of the room comfortable, and each of them thinking of Kalin’s poignant story, until Legolas stifled a yawn. The Ranger reluctantly withdrew his arm from the Prince’s embrace, sighed at the loss of contact, and then stood from the couch. He went to the mantel, upon which sat the two cups of tea that his father had made for them, and took one in hand. Estel handed the Prince the cup, which had long grown cold but was no less beneficial for having done so.

“Drink,” he implored the Elf with pretend sternness. “Your Minyatar demanded that I see to it that you did.”

“And did he demand that you drink your tea, as well?” the laegel asked while accepting the teacup. He warned the human with similar, ersatz grimness, “I am not drinking mine unless you drink yours. My kaimamoroko needs his sleep.”

The last thing that the Adan wanted was to slumber but Legolas was not jesting – the Prince would not drink his medicines if the Ranger refused to drink his, and he wanted the laegel to have his tea. It would help the Prince’s bruises, ease the pain of his remaining wounds, and hopefully aid the laegel to have unhindered, serene sleep this night. Unwillingly, Estel gulped down the cold liquid, his plans of staying up all night to watch over his lover now ruined, but he was happy, at least, that Legolas imbibed his tea as promised. More gratifying than having Legolas drink his medicine was the smile that the Elf gave him at having beaten the Ranger so easily – the adoring, unreserved grin that Legolas shared only with him, the smile that Estel thought of as his alone, being that the human had never seen the Wood-Elf share it with anyone else – made his drinking the tea worth it. That smile, at least, Aragorn knew held no mendacity.

He took the empty cup from Legolas and sat both cups back upon the mantel. Wordlessly, Legolas stood to begin pulling off his tunic and boots, though he left on his slightly over large trousers and undershirt. The night was cool because of the distant rains in the northern mountain range, from where a wonderful breeze emanated. The human watched the laegel for a moment as the Prince crawled over the end of the bed to reach the head of it, kicking back the bedclothes along his way.

“I am full, I am clean, and now I am tired. Can you sleep, Estel?” the Silvan queried. Legolas slid his legs under the thin blanket, placing himself on the same side on which he normally slept since Adan and Elf had started sharing a bed as lovers.

“I can. I haven’t had much sleep the past few days,” he admitted.

He did not want to presume that he was welcome to the laegel’s bed. The last thing that he wanted was to push the Prince into something about which he was not comfortable. Although earlier Legolas had mentioned his sleeping the night with him, he might have meant for Estel to sleep on the couch nearby the bed. That the Prince left room for him to lie beside him, though, roused the Adan’s hopes. He need not have worried if he was welcome.

Once upon his back, his head upon the pillow, his Greenleaf held his hand out to summon him to bed, saying, “Then come lie beside me, if you want to.”

“Of course I do,” he replied without wavering, taking his lover’s hand and keeping tight hold of it as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

Hurriedly, Estel shed his tunic and then his undershirt, leaving his trousers on but his chest bare. Normally, the two might have slept altogether nude – especially Estel, who was prone to get hot from the summer weather – but the Adan was acutely aware of not upsetting the Prince, who only this morning had been the recipient of Mithfindl’s wholly undesired lust. He was glad enough to be welcomed to Legolas’ bed and wouldn’t press his luck further. He rose from his seat next to the Wood-Elf’s hip to walk to the bathing room to douse the candelabrum there, and then made a circuit of the bedchambers to do the same, until only the oil lamp on the Elf’s nightstand remained lit.

With an anxiety he had never before felt around Legolas, Estel laid himself out on what he thought of as his side of the down stuffed mattress, his head upon the pillow that he usually used, the blanket pulled from his part of the bed and completely to Legolas’ part, as it would only make the human warm though the Elf could not seem to sleep without it over him. Upon his back, the Adan reclined in apprehensive indecision while Legolas reached to the table by the bed to extinguish the last lamp, ere the laegel was sprawled out in the bed again. Only moonlight lit the room now.

Aragorn rolled to his side to face the Elf, though he vacillated as to whether to press himself against the Prince. He yearned to align his body to his lover’s, to meld his own form against the laegel’s, until he could feel the warmth and vibrancy of Legolas’ living rhaw with the length of his own body. That momentary hesitation only allowed the laegel to do as Estel wanted to do – Legolas stretched himself out beside the Ranger such that they were face to face, ere he scooted downwards so that his head fit under the human’s chin and he could snake one arm around the Ranger’s waist. The Prince slid a knee between the Adan’s knees, so that even their legs were entwined. In utter contentment, the human stifled a sigh.

_Even if I cannot hope to remain awake now, at least I will get this much – I will be able to hold him all night. I will watch him sleep while I can._

The human’s heart began to beat a little faster. The night had sped by; when he slept, time would go unnoticed by the Adan until they awoke in the morning with Estel having missed hours that he could have spent watching his lover breathe, inhaling the fragrant scent of his lover’s body, and feeling the slight weight of the Elf’s flesh in his hands. Anxiety began to overwhelm him, for in the morning, a new countdown would begin – this might truly be the last night he would ever spend in the Wood-Elf’s company, with his lover in his arms, and the Ranger could not breathe from the fear that this incited within him.

“Do you ever regret having met me?” the Prince asked him suddenly, yanking the worried Ranger from his thoughts. “Do you ever regret that we have been friends? That we have been lovers?”

“Greenleaf,” he began, twisting his arms more tightly about the Silvan. Grief oftentimes wasted an Elf’s body. Although nowhere near as thinned as he had been month’s previous, Aragorn could tell with a lover’s certainty that Legolas was leaner than he had been. “Never. I would not trade a single moment of my time with you. It is more precious to me than anything.”

He could feel the Wood-Elf’s body as it relaxed into sleep, his muscles becoming soft as the tea and exhaustion took their toll from him. Legolas strangely whispered, “When this is over, I fear you will have changed your mind.”

Had not the Elf sounded so miserable, Estel might have taken this odd proclamation as a threat. Tucking the Silvan’s head more firmly under his chin, the Ranger closed his eyes so that he could focus upon the Prince’s freshly washed hair – the smell of which delighted his nose and the feel of which tickled his face. He tried to forget for now that all of these sensations had a possible expiration.

“Why would you say such a thing?” he inquired gently before putting the laegel’s questions to him, instead, thinking that Legolas would vehemently deny it as had he. Aragorn asked, “Do you regret having met me? Do you regret that we have been friends and lovers?”

“Yes,” his Greenleaf expeditiously answered in a soft susurrus as sleep started to steal his sentience. “Because if you had not met me, you would not have suffered on my behalf or because of my weakness of will and mind. I have brought you nothing but sorrow. You would have been happier had you never met me,” the Elf told him, his voice no more than a half-asleep murmur that Estel would not have heard had his ear not been so close to the Prince’s mouth.

So stunned was Aragorn that it took the human several moments before his mind could process this. Legolas was not implying that he wished he had never met Estel because his own life would have been easier; no, he truly meant that he would rather that the Adan not had to endure his lover’s seeming madness, distress, and travails. The Prince saw the benefit of Estel’s love for him but thought himself selfish for being loved when he saw his own love as the harbinger of tragedy. By the time Estel overcame his surprise, Legolas had slipped into placid reverie.

 _Why does he speak as if he were saying goodbye, when he has no knowledge that tomorrow night marks the end of his inability to die?_ the human wondered.

On his side and on this side of the bed, Aragorn faced the far wall, where was painted the mural of Greenwood the Great, where nothing sat except a few chairs and a table on which the Elf sometimes sat books and papers, inks and such, when the mood to write struck him and where he had sat to study while in the valley as a child and under the tutelage of his Minyatar’s erudite friends who taught the twins and Arwen, as well. As he felt himself drift off to sleep, the Ranger again noted how empty the wall appeared, though he could not think why this was so.

His eyes finally slipping shut, his Ada’s medicinal tea finally pulling him into sleep, his tiredness finally overcoming his fretfulness, and the comfort of his lover in his arms finally ameliorating his constant need for assurance that his lover was safe, Estel’s final waking thought was, _Why does Greenleaf keep saying, ‘when this is over’?_


	58. Chapter 58

Sun shone brightly into the room. It was already much later than when the Elf and Ranger would normally have awoken, but the two lovers had been exhausted and needed the well-deserved rest they’d found that night. Despite the sunshine that bathed the resplendent valley, a tremendous clap of thunder was what woke the Wood-Elf from his slumber. In the distant east, north of Imladris towards the Ettenmoors, the sky was still dark with rain clouds. The lingering, looming storms would soon meander their way towards the valley – perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, if they were not spent before then – and they and their ilk would batter the lowlands with intermittent rain for several weeks.

Now awake, though he would have rather remained asleep, the Silvan laid there in sleep-muddled contentment. He could almost forget all that had happened over the last few days. He desperately wished that he could forget.

Legolas may have awoken but the thunder did not manage to rouse Estel. The human was pressed tightly behind the laegel, one of his arms folded under his head but the other draped across the Wood-Elf’s waist, his hand fisted into the sheet upon the mattress on the side opposite of the Elf so that should Legolas rise, he would have to break the Ranger’s hold to move from the bed, and thus wake the human. The Prince imagined that Estel had done this on purpose sometime during the night, so that he would know should his Elven lover try to get up before him. The braid that the Adan had plaited in the Prince’s hair was pushed to the side. Aragorn’s bewhiskered face was nuzzled pleasantly against the bare flesh of the back of the Elf’s neck.

The normally regular, quiet sound of the human’s breath was irregular and harsh, coming in grumbling rasps for some unknown reason. Legolas felt his lover shudder behind him, which made the Wood-Elf think, _Is he cold?_ But then, Legolas considered that at this time of year, it was unlikely that the Adan would be anything but too warm, as was normal for Estel during the summer months. Again, he heard Aragorn grumble, until that strange mumble turned into nearly intelligible speech.

“No,” the Ranger was saying in a murmur in his sleep. More forcefully this time, Estel muttered, “No… -eenleaf.”

_That sounded almost like my name. He may be having a nightmare._

At once, Legolas grabbed for the hand that kept him from sliding from the bed, but so tight was Aragorn’s hold of the sheet – even in his sleep and perhaps more so because of the terrible dream that had caused the Ranger’s entire body to clench reflexively – that the Prince could not easily remove Estel’s fisted hand lest he chance hurting the human’s fingers. And so, Legolas rapidly wriggled upwards through the loop that the human’s arm made around his body until he was sitting against the headboard, such that his legs were encased by the man’s arms, instead. Now that he was able, Legolas immediately reached out for the human.

“Estel,” he sharply called out and then again, shaking Aragorn by his shoulder, “Estel.” His years spent in the wild had given the Ranger the almost preternatural ability to wake at the slightest noise or unknown presence, but the man was entrenched in his nightmare and did not waken. Shaking until Aragorn’s entire body lolled over to his back, the Wood-Elf nearly shouted, “Estel.”

The sudden loss of his lover beside him, which was the very fear over which he had been dreaming, and rolling over onto his back and thus his hand breaking free of its hold of the bed sheet, provoked the Ranger’s fright and he inhaled sharply, his eyes flying open as his mind roused from the terror of having lost Legolas in his arms as he’d lost him in his nightmare.

“Estel,” the Prince soothed the Adan, who sat up at once, his silver eyes wide and unseeing, and his hands streaking out until they found the laegel’s body, which he then grabbed painfully. With the Wood-Elf’s thigh in one hand and his forearm in the other, the Adan’s terror diminished somewhat at the feel of his lover’s warm flesh, his glassy eyes began to focus upon his beloved’s face, and he looked at Legolas rather than through him. By accident, the man’s hand grabbed one of the bruises upon the Elf, causing Legolas to gasp at the sudden pain, though he did not try to break free of Estel’s hold. Legolas reached out to cup the human’s cheek in hand, telling him, “You are home in the valley. You are with me. Meleth nin, you are safe.”

“I was dreaming,” the Adan admitted reluctantly, hoarsely, still half asleep and not yet in full control of his faculties. At noticing how forcibly he held onto the Prince, Aragorn let the laegel loose for only as long as it took him to grab hold of the Elf’s upper arms so that he could pull Legolas to him. At once, he wrapped the Silvan in a tight embrace; it was only when the Wood-Elf returned this rough hug that Estel seemed to breathe again. “It was only a dream.”

“No,” the Silvan argued into the man’s bare shoulder, upon which he laid his head, but not before pressing an innocent kiss to it first. “You were having a nightmare.”

“It does not matter,” the human lied ineffectually. Estel did not want to release the Prince and so Legolas merely held tightly to the Adan to offer whatever comfort he could. “It does not matter,” he repeated gruffly, adding, “because you are here. I thought you had gone, but you are here.”

Legolas was summarily remorseful at his lover’s words. Yes, he had often rued how his friendship with the human continued to bring Aragorn hardship, but faced with it this morning, on the day he would betray the Ranger’s trust, the Elf’s shame escalated to dizzying heights. To make it worse, it seemed that Estel’s nightmare was of Legolas leaving him, which was exactly what the Elf intended to do before the day was done.

With his head down, his dark, curled mop of hair hanging around his well-defined, whiskered face, Aragorn told the Prince without being asked, speaking dazedly, “I dreamt of our camp outside Lake-town. I dreamt of Cort and Sven, of what happened that day, and of how helpless I was to stop it, to stop them from hurting you. But in this dream, I did not get free of their rope. I could only hang there and watch, and they never had their fill of tormenting you. I thought it would never end – at least, until my dream became the memory of walking into your bathing chambers in your father’s halls, of finding you in a pool of your own blood in the tub, your leg in tatters, as I did the night before your father expelled us from the forest. But in my dream, I found you too late. When I jumped in the tub, the pool of blood had grown cold. Your skin was as pale and thin as a wisp of smoke. I sat in the tub full of your blood and yelled your name to try to bring your spirit back to your body.”

The human’s arms constricted about the Elf once more, as his dread mounted by the recollection of his nightmare. In response, Legolas held Estel as tightly as he could, though he tried to mind the man’s belly, upon which linen was still wound to cover his stab wound. As he spoke, the Adan’s voice grew quieter, reedier, until he began to sound younger. “But again the dream changed and I was suddenly looking down upon the marks that you made upon the stone of the patio in the garden. Of finding your fingernails upon the tiles. Of knowing that you had almost tore the flesh from your fingers as you tried to claw your way out of Mithfindl’s hold. When we pulled you out from under the bushes, Mithfindl had removed the periapt that kept you alive and we found you too late to be of any help. You were cold, your body broken, and your faer fled. I dreamt again and again that you left me, that you died.”

The laegel’s chest felt like it was bound with rope. He could not pull in the air to breathe, to speak to assure the Ranger that he was well and with him. Shame was the greatest cause of this, but his sorrow on the human’s account was growing steadily. It was easy for him to forget how young the human was. Over the past months, Aragorn had been the foundation upon which he had rebuilt his life, but the Prince should have been the wiser, stronger one, by his own reckoning. The Ranger was an adult by human standards, yes, but Legolas had known Estel since he was only ten years of age. The Prince remembered well the sensitive, gangly child that had trailed him and the twins around every moment of every day that first summer that he’d met the Adan. Right now, though, the adult who clung to him could have been the child from many years ago, so young and needy did he sound.

Legolas had also forgotten that through all that he had survived the last few months, Estel had been beside him for the better part of it. To have seen the torment through which the laegel had endured was torment in itself. Estel had seen the Prince’s broken, ravaged body, been forced to tend his wounds and wash him, had dealt with the Wood-Elf’s wounded faer, and through all of this had somehow managed to remain calm, strong, and loving. Added now to Legolas’ mortification was shame at how he had taken his lover for granted. Aragorn may not have suffered injury himself but he had suffered on Legolas’ behalf.

 _I have done this. I am the cause for all of this. Had he never known me… had he never fallen in love with me,_ the Prince rued, letting Aragorn squeeze him so securely that the Wood-Elf grimaced at the agony it caused the bruises upon his mostly healed body. His decision to leave was already made, but if he’d had any lingering doubts, they lingered no longer. After all that Estel had done for him and had sacrificed for him, Legolas would not let the human suffer any longer. Truly, Estel had not been dreaming about his own torment or death by Mithfindl’s hands, but that was an unimportant quibble. Mithfindl was alive and only by his death could Legolas ascertain the Ranger’s well-being. _To ensure Estel will be safe from him, that he will suffer no retaliation from Mithfindl, it seems I must bring to life his nightmare of my leaving him._

Estel seemed suddenly to realize that he was reminding the Prince of events that had brought his lover great sorrow and that repeating them would only renew that sorrow. Shifting away from the Prince, the young, distressed child disappeared with a blink and the weathered, dependable Ranger reappeared.

“I am sorry, Greenleaf,” the Adan whispered as he released the Wood-Elf to peer into the laegel’s face, to gauge what damage he might have caused with his perceived carelessness. “Greenleaf?”

“Do not apologize,” he told the Ranger with a smile, “for having a nightmare, meleth nin.”

Legolas did not feel the tears trembling down his cheeks until Estel reached up to brush them away. When Aragorn opened his mouth to apologize again, the Prince tried to forfend this by assuaging the Ranger that all was well – a well-intentioned lie, to be sure – but his words were stolen from his mouth upon seeing that the linen bandaging over the Adan’s belly was smirched with blood. A bright red spot tainted the otherwise white cloth.

“Estel!” he exclaimed, fussing with the linen wound around the Adan’s stomach. “Have you torn free your stitches?”

At first, the Ranger only stared at Legolas in expectation, for he was not as willing to quit their conversation as the Prince, who was eager to abandon the topic of his shame and the imminent heartache that he would soon bring upon his human lover. But then Estel shook his head with a smirk, “No, I don’t think I have torn them out but I may have pulled on them a bit. It is a small wound but in a place that is easy to aggravate,” he was quick to say, for he felt he worried Legolas enough that morning with his nightmares, and so guaranteed, “I only need more clean bandaging. Later, I will have my father check it to be sure. It does not hurt, I promise you,” he added at the Prince’s disbelieving look.

The laegel jumped up from the bed to sift through the sundry items that Elrond had left in the room from his having treated the Prince the day and night before. In hopes that he could avoid speaking about the Ranger’s nightmare any further, and having found no more bandaging, Legolas suggested, “I will go to the apothecary and fetch some more.”

As cowardly as it might have been, the laegel felt the urge to be free of the human’s presence, but only for a few moments. If he did not collect his rampant emotions and his wayward thoughts, he might lose his battle not to break down into tears, screams, or perhaps both. The last thing that he needed this morning was for Estel to have some reason to think him going mad – or madder, as the case may be.

“No, Greenleaf. I will go. You should not wander the halls of the house, unless you want Kalin to skin me alive for not going with you and not warning him, as well. I want to find a servant on my way to the apothecary, besides,” the human suggested, apparently having decided to let rest his worry that he had upset Legolas with the reiteration of his nightmare, “I think I’d like some tea and bread, some honey and butter, or some fruit, if you like, for breakfast. We can lie in bed and eat it. If we get crumbs all over the place, well, we will just have Faidnil change the sheets another time,” he joked.

Legolas was not hungry in the least. After last night, he had eaten enough to last him for a while. However, he decided, _I may have to leave at a moment’s notice and I am not sure if I will have time to hunt for game while traveling, nor will I have the chance to obtain any food before I flee._ The Prince walked back to the bed, where Estel was now sitting upon the edge, and caressed the man’s face. He let his fingers play over the fine lines that decorated the man’s forehead, lines that were most noticeable when Aragorn was worried or thinking. Estel’s eyelids fluttered and his face moved minutely forward, as if to increase the gentle tracing of his lover’s fingertips. _I should eat while I can._

So he nodded his agreement, telling the Adan as he stuck his hand out to pull him to standing, “That sounds wonderful. But I think if I ask Faidnil to change the sheets again, he will insist on my sleeping on the floor.”

The human laughed, his awful dream forgotten, for his lover was standing before him and seemingly all was well. Estel did not bother with his boots or his shirt, but ran a hand through his hair before preparing to leave. On impulse, Legolas halted the man by grabbing his arm. The instantly worried Ranger turned to him, which is when the Prince noted that the terror Aragorn felt from his nightmare had not yet dissipated. Legolas did not know the cause, lest Estel’s anxiety was just a holdover from his awful dreams, but Aragorn was troubled this morning. Needless to say, it had been a very difficult few days for all of his friends and family in the valley, but after sharing a night of simple, intimate affection with his human lover, Legolas thought that Estel would be convinced that all would be well.

And yet, even now the Adan looked at the Prince with blatant fear upon his face. Like a leaf having fallen into the river, the Ranger’s angst would submerge for a short while – pushed under his cheerful veneer, which was a sham to keep Legolas happy – before the current of his emotions caused it to surface long enough to be seen, ere the Ranger’s anxiety would be pulled under again in hopes of drowning it so that Legolas would not be perturbed.

_I will not have him worried this morning, not if I can do anything to help it._

Legolas stepped into the man’s body so that they were belly to belly, chest to chest, with his arms wound tight around the human, such that the Elf could lay his head in the crook of the Adan’s neck. At once, Estel returned this embrace eagerly. Lightly, warmly, the Prince pressed his lips against the Ranger’s throat, where Estel’s heartbeat moved the skin in rapid pulses that quickened merely by Legolas’ nearness.

“I will be right here,” he swore to Estel, pressing gentle busses up the man’s throat, to his chin, before landing upon the Adan’s impatient mouth. For now, at least, he was not lying when he promised this. Under his arms and against his chest, he could sense the decline of the human’s tension.

“I will be gone for only a short while,” Aragorn told his Elven lover, though he made no further move to leave, for apprehension was still written in the lines upon the man’s wrinkled brow, no matter how Legolas tried to erase them.

He was surprised at his own willing show of affection, since with the clarity of an icicle thrust into his eye he could still see Mithfindl’s revolting face as the Noldo taunted him with his torture. The laegel tugged at Aragorn’s soft lips with his own and then leisurely ran the tip of his tongue along the Ranger’s mouth; Estel did not try to return this kiss but gladly opened his lips so that the Wood-Elf could do as he pleased without demanding more from Legolas than what he offered. This done, the Elf stepped back from Aragorn to look into his face, only to step forward again to pull the human by the back of the neck so that he could reach to kiss the Adan’s wrinkled brow.

He once more moved away to promise the Ranger, “I will be here when you return, Estel.”

Finally, the fear was absent from the Adan’s face, the anxiety drawn upon his forehead was smoothed by Legolas’ reassurance. With a fleeting smile, Aragorn fled the room; he would likely sprint to the apothecary and back just to make certain that he would return to find his lover still safe and well inside his rooms.

Legolas sat upon the couch, his back against the armrest and his legs spread out over the other cushions, such that he faced the open balcony doors to look upon the wakening valley beyond. It literally, physically hurt the Prince to think that he would soon deceive the Ranger and betray him beyond anything he had ever done to Estel before. In minor ways, especially in the last few months, Legolas had been mendacious or evasive, but never had he outright lied to the Ranger with the intent to mislead him so deliberately.

 _I need this morning, Eru,_ he prayed. _Give us this morning of uninterrupted peace. Let me make clear to him that I love him, that none of what comes is his fault. Let me make clear to him that I do this because I love him, not because I am afraid of him or shun him for what Mithfindl has done. Let me have this morning so that when I am gone he will understand._

Estel had been gone for only a few minutes before someone began to knock upon his door, interrupting the laegel’s thoughts. He guessed at once that it would be Kalin. _Either he has noted Estel leave or he has just gone too long without seeing me and wants to assure himself that I am fine._ After hearing his sentry’s story from the night before, after being told that Kalin pledged his life to him because of his love for his Queen and remained loyal because of his love for his Prince, to have his sentry around this morning as a reminder of yet another person he would soon betray was not heartening to the laegel.

The forlorn Silvan Prince plastered a smile of greeting upon his face. “Come in,” he called out to his sentry.

It was indeed Kalin at the door; by the look of him, he had followed his Prince’s orders from the night before. It pleased Legolas to see that his sentry had not spent the night staring at his door, and had bathed and changed and perhaps rested as he’d been begged to do. He hoped when he was gone that Kalin would not agonize over it.

 _He is likely to blame himself,_ the Prince regretted, trying to keep smiling although his thoughts undermined his outward cheer. _He will think that I have shunned him, he will think that I did not trust him, or he will think that it is his fault that any of this happened, if he does not already._

Glancing towards Kalin’s hands, he noted that the crusted, dark maroon blood that had once lined the undersides of the sentry’s fingernails was now scrubbed clean. “I see that you have bathed.” Legolas queried, “Did you find any rest?”

Shutting the door behind him, the loyal Wood-Elf came within the room and sat on the bed, just where he had sat last night while telling his charge the story of how he came to be his sentry. “I did rest, for a short while, at least. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” he replied. The laegel leant his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He was not enthusiastic to hear his sentry’s worrying this morning but it would come whether he wanted it or not. “Estel and I only woke up a short time ago.”

“Speaking of whom, where is Estel?” Kalin asked, looking around in sudden notice that the human was not with his Prince.

Legolas knew without being told that the only reason that Kalin had not insisted upon being in the room with his despairing Prince the night prior was because the sentry had known that Estel would remain with the laegel. For the last two months, Legolas had not been allowed to be alone for any length of time – not by Kalin, not by Estel, and not by the twins. For the Adan to have left his Prince alone this morning, less than a day after the Wood-Elf had been ravaged by Mithfindl, irked Kalin, Legolas could tell.

“He will return in a moment. He went to the apothecary.” At his sentry’s immediate, mounting concern, Legolas knew that next Kalin would ask him what was wrong, so he explained, “The gut that Minyatar sewed into his belly has pulled and caused it to bleed. He is off to find bandaging. I offered to go myself, but he told me that you would skin him alive should he let me wander the house without you.”

At this, the sentry breathed a sigh of relief and nodded his head. Although Legolas was only joking, Kalin appeared very much as if he might really have skinned the Ranger alive had Estel let Legolas roam the house alone.

_And this is why I must leave. They think of me as some pathetic, broken thing, unable to take care of myself. If I am to live, then I must leave. I must prove to myself and everyone else that I am sane, that I am whole, and that I am not weak, else I will always be the mad, frail Prince that all of my people, friends, and especially my father think me to be._

Kalin cleared his throat to gain Legolas’ attention. His sentry was watching the Prince for the telltale signs of the laegel listening to the scar’s voice; seeing that Legolas was not, evinced by his ability to garner his Prince’s attention so easily, Kalin told his charge, “Lords Elladan and Elrohir came by in the middle of the night to see that you were both well. They looked in to check on you and promised that they would return sometime today to see you, my Prince. For now, they still help Lord Glorfindel in his efforts to find Mithfindl.”

 _Then it will be a while before I will have to worry over the twins hounding my every step. If I find any time alone today, I will be surprised._ He would make time. If he had to lie to do it – or worse yet, fight his way through his father’s sentries and Kalin – then Legolas would find some way to leave the valley. But all this he hoped to do after spending the morning with the Ranger.

The Ranger over whom he fretted could be heard coming down the hall, his light-footed steps audible to the keen-eared Elves in the hush of the family wing of the house. Kalin stood from the bed and opened the door, surprising Aragorn, whose hand was out to grab the knob. “Good morning, Estel,” the sentry welcomed.

“And to you, Kalin. I could find no servant to fetch us breakfast,” the Ranger explained to the Prince, “but perhaps Kalin can send one of the King’s sentries.” With a roll of bandaging in hand, the Ranger came straightaway to Legolas, the anxiety that plagued him this morning was once again upon his face as he entered but masked by the time he reached where the Prince sat. “Can you help me, Greenleaf?”

While the Prince gladly removed the winding linen from around his lover’s belly, Aragorn asked the sentry, “Do you have any news this morning?”

 _It hasn’t bled much, at least. It has only seeped through in this one spot,_ the Wood-Elf determined of the spotted swatch of linen that he gently pulled free from the Ranger’s wound so as not to disturb the stitches or cause Aragorn pain. To see his lover’s injury – an injury that he had made – incited the Elf into feeling ill. Quickly, he began winding the fresh linen over the angrily reddened flesh so that he would not need to see it any longer.

From where he now stood near the door, Kalin answered the Ranger’s question, saying, “They have not found him, if that’s what you mean, but Lord Elrond and King Thranduil are waiting for you to remedy that.”

Kalin was fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. While normally the sentry did not carry his weapons in the Last Homely House, for the last few days, when the Silvan did not know whom to trust amongst their hosts, Kalin had kept himself well armed. Even now, he carried all his weapons – his sword, a long dagger at his waist and a short one at his ankle – except for his bow and quiver, which did little good in close quarters, should fighting break out inside the house for some reason. No one expected Mithfindl to show now, most of all Legolas, but Kalin must have felt better to be armed.

“Already?” the Ranger asked cantankerously, adjusting the linen that Legolas had tied about him. “We are questioning Faelthîr this morning,” he explained to the laegel, who had yet to hear of his Minyatar, father, and lover’s plans, “to find out where she was supposed to take you to meet with Mithfindl.”

“Why are you questioning her?” he asked the Ranger. Legolas once again sat back on the couch with his legs and feet sprawled out across the length of it, his bare toes digging into the fabric of the cushioned armrest opposite to where his back reclined. While he wanted the opportunity to be free of Estel’s company at some point today, he had not thought it would come so early. “I mean, why you instead of Minyatar?”

“Because I hope to frighten her to make her answer or guilt her into giving answers, perhaps, although I think your father will lean towards the former rather than the latter,” the human explained with a wry, mirthless smile. Aragorn began hunting for his shirt and so missed the laegel’s fearful countenance to hear of his scheme to get answers from the Elleth.

“There is no call to be cruel to Faelthîr.” Kalin was not pleased by their task, it seemed, and crossed his arms over his chest in agitation. He pled to the Ranger, “I have already told you that I do not love her, but she is not the one who tormented my Prince. It is hardly necessary to frighten her, I should think.”

With this said, Kalin looked to Legolas, as if his mentioning this would upset the laegel. For weeks after his being abused by the human merchants, his friends and family had minded what they said around him out of fear that they would incite his sorrow by a careless word, and now they would do it again.

 _No, I won’t be around for it,_ he told himself with a shake of his head. _I won’t be around for any of their guilt or worry or tiptoeing, and I likely won’t live long enough to return to it, either._

“Are you not going with us?” the human asked the sentry. Aragorn was hurriedly dressing while they were speaking. Without answering, Kalin once more looked to Legolas, who pretended not to notice. This look was answer enough for Estel, who slid his tunic over his head and once it was situated, ran his hands through his hair again, though it did little good for his unruly locks. He walked to Kalin to clap him on the back as he nodded, saying, “Good. If we get no answers from her, though, perhaps I will return and you can go ask her.”

Kalin did not agree and only reminded Aragorn again, “She is ambitious, but surely she is not cruel. Not like Mithfindl. He must have been the one to talk her into this.”

His sentry was wrong. He had not shared all the details of what he now remembered, but Legolas recalled clearly how Faelthîr had been the intelligence behind her and Mithfindl’s scheme. _In fact,_ the Wood-Elf ruminated, _had Mithfindl not forgotten their plan the night of the feast, Ada and Ninan would be wearing periapts, and all of us might be none the wiser._ Still, he did not wish to renew his sentry’s heartache over having unwittingly shared private information about his Prince. If Kalin wished to believe that Faelthîr had been coerced into plotting with Mithfindl, the Prince would not disavow him of that belief.

Aragorn did not argue but also did not appear to believe the Wood-Elf sentry, either. Instead, he only nodded once again before coming to where Legolas sat upon the couch. The Ranger knelt down before where Legolas sat; he put his hands on the Elf’s thigh and smiled worriedly at the Prince, his fear for the laegel rising to the surface once again. Without saying anything, though, Estel unenthusiastically rose to look for his boots. Estel had wanted only to touch Legolas for that brief moment, it seemed, or perhaps he changed his mind about saying what he’d intended to say to Legolas, the Elf considered of his lover.

“So you do not plan to help?” he asked his sentry as if he had not seen Kalin’s wordless explanation to Estel. It would be hard to enact his plans with Kalin around. “If it is as Estel says, and they intend to use guilt and shame to pull the answers from her, then I would think that your presence would be needed, as well, since she misused your affection for her.”

His sentry’s fair face tinged pink at the reminder of his part in his Prince’s suffering. “I cannot look at her,” his fellow Silvan vehemently swore. “For her to intoxicate me with poppy medicines to fish for information is one thing – I could have forgiven her for being vainglorious and manipulative. But to have used that information against you, to have provided that information to Mithfindl to use against you – if I see her again, I may snap her neck,” Kalin told him simply.

 _And I believe that you would,_ the Prince decided upon seeing how angry his sentry was at the thought of what his scheming lover had done to him. Kalin himself had not been hurt by any of Faelthîr’s plans but Legolas knew that Kalin would rather have been hurt than to have had his Prince harmed. _I believe you would torment her just to have her answer and then torment Mithfindl upon finding him._ Kalin was not a cruel Elf in the least and had just implored the Ranger not to be cruel; however, his sentry would have a hard time in refraining from vengeance if given the chance.

 _Now how will I get away from Kalin long enough to see this done?_ the Prince contemplated as he watched Estel pull on his boots. The Ranger was smiling at Kalin, ostensibly pleased to hear the Silvan’s wish for violence against Faelthîr. Regardless of her role in his suffering, Legolas would not have the she-Elf treated poorly on his account. Mithfindl was a different matter altogether – he had physically harmed the Prince, while Faelthîr had not.

With this in mind, he also implored Aragorn, “Make sure that my father does not strike her. He will lose his temper, I am sure of it.”

The Adan stopped in strapping on his boots, his silver eyes wide in disbelief. “No one will harm her. We only plan to menace her a bit, I suppose. Or maybe offer her some amnesty, a chance to sail or something similar, in exchange for her aid.”

Appeased by this, both Wood-Elves relaxed at his promise, though for different reasons. Legolas had set them upon Faelthîr to find out the answers that the Silvan Prince was almost certain that she would not have. Already he felt guilty for having done it.

Yet, he knew that his doing so was necessary to his plan. He had thought to buy himself time by focusing their attention upon Faelthîr and it appeared to be working, but he had not intended for Aragorn to be a part of it. The Prince had only hoped that if they thought that Faelthîr knew where Mithfindl had gone, then they would think that they knew where Legolas had gone, as well. He had anticipated that it would delay their search for him or perhaps even misdirect it, should Faelthîr offer some random place that she might guess as to where Mithfindl might be. His plan hinged upon his belief that Mithfindl did not tell Faelthîr where he went; if he told her then the Prince would be caught before he caught Mithfindl.

Aragorn again came to the couch upon which the Prince lounged. He knelt before the Wood-Elf as he had moments before. With the same relief that he’d shown since yesterday, since learning that Legolas did not fear him and was not repulsed by him, and thus learning that he could touch his lover, the Adan reached out for him. He slipped his arms around the Prince’s waist, hugging him lightly, his face pressed tight to Legolas’ chest, above his heart.

_This cannot be it. He cannot leave now. Not like this._

The brief embrace ended too quickly for the Prince. As his Adan lover began to pull back, to leave to question Faelthîr, Legolas hurried to say, “I love you, Estel.”

If the Ranger thought it odd how his lover acted, he showed only happiness to hear again that the Prince’s feelings for him had not changed due to recent events. Aragorn stood so that he could lean over the laegel and press his lips to the Elf’s forehead. The stubble around the man’s mouth, the soft, moist sensation of the Adan’s lips, and Estel’s hot, humid breath buffeting against his forehead were ephemeral sensations. The second that this chaste kiss lasted was too short a time for Legolas.

“I love you, Greenleaf,” Estel replied in return.

The Ranger caressed the Silvan’s forehead, sweeping back a strand of hair that had come loose from his braid. Aragorn’s calloused fingers, ingrained with soil that no matter how much he scrubbed the human could never wash away, his adoring smile, the faint scent of pipe-weed – all these things the Prince stored away in his mind. And then, Aragorn turned away, calling over his shoulder as he sped across the room so as not to miss the interrogation, “I will return as soon as I can.”

He had thought to spend the morning with Estel, to eat breakfast with him, to lie in the man’s arms all morning if he could, or perhaps to take a stroll somewhere. He had wanted to enjoy every last moment that he could get with Estel. But now the Ranger was to leave, to do as Legolas had hoped he would in giving the Prince time alone, but it had come too soon. And now that he knew that his Minyatar, his father, and Estel were all to be part of this, and that the twins were off with Glorfindel, such that there would be no surprise visitors for the next hour or more, he had plenty of time to enact his plan.

He wanted so much more. He had so much to say to Estel, so great a desire to hold his lover, to taste him. And yet, all he had gotten was a gentle, quick buss upon his forehead and a hug as a goodbye. Estel had no idea that this was very likely the last time that he would see the Wood-Elf, but Legolas knew it well. As Estel left the room, Kalin shut the door behind him, and the Prince immediately despaired. He closed his eyes; he wanted no distraction from his attempt to remember every detail of the human.

“My Prince?” Kalin asked as he came to the couch. Standing before it, the sentry leant over somewhat so that he could peer into his charge’s face and place a hand upon his shoulder. So attuned now was his fellow Silvan to his Prince’s every mood, Kalin could feel Legolas’ sudden desolation. “He will be back soon enough,” Kalin assured him, thinking that the Prince only wanted his lover’s presence.

Legolas opened his eyes again, the memory of Aragorn as firmly planted inside his mind as Mithfindl’s instructions had once been.

_I cannot falter. I have to do this. I have to leave. I must see this completed._

With a fond smile for Kalin, he nodded at his sentry’s words, but then asked offhandedly, “Did you happen to sharpen my long knife?”


	59. Chapter 59

He might have felt sorry for Faelthîr, but Estel could not find it in himself to feel anything but hatred. The she-Elf was already in tears, as she had been upon their arrival. Being that she was a part of Elrond’s household without any family this side of Belegaer, Faelthîr lived in the Last Homely House in the wing where many of the servants lived. This wing was just as lovely as the rest of the house – since all were generally treated equally in Elrond’s home – and upon her walls there were beautiful hangings of horses in fields and foals next to their dams, the decorative stone columns between her bedchamber and sitting room were carved into high relief, interspersed with depictions of horses which pranced, grazed, and rested upon a chiseled background of grasses and wildflowers. It was a fine room that complemented her station and vocation, though Estel considered that since she loathed her work as a livestock healer, Faelthîr might also abhor her chambers.

All this he took notice of while waiting for Faelthîr’s tears to slow. Oddest of his observations was that Faelthîr’s rooms were barren of anything that showed she lived there at all. There were no clothes hanging from the pegs, no books upon the shelves, nor any sundries or personal effects that a person usually accumulates over one’s life.

 _Apparently, she thought she would be leaving for Eryn Galen and has already packed,_ he thought of the two satchels and small wooden chest that were stacked near the hearth. _Else, she thought she might have to flee and was prepared for that, instead._

Since being nabbed in the stables the day before, Faelthîr had said absolutely nothing to Erestor. By the councilor’s account, no matter how kind, reasonable, or persuasive he had tried to be, Faelthîr had only cried. Despite his typical solemnity and occasionally overwhelming seriousness, Erestor was a joyful, kindhearted Elf who had refused to threaten, demean, or upset the she-Elf any more than he already had. And so, it was now left to Thranduil, Elrond, and Estel to extract the answers from her. Upon learning that his King was to be in the presence of one of his Prince’s tormentors, Ninan had deemed it his duty to join them to ensure his King’s well-being. No one tried to dissuade him. So now, Faelthîr was surrounded by three irate Elves and an equally enraged Adan.

For almost an hour already, they had been speaking to Faelthîr congenially, for the most part, using tact to try to elicit information. Aragorn took Kalin and Legolas’ reminders to heart – he found it hard to be cruel anyway, even less to someone crying, and much less to a crying she-Elf. After bearing Elrond’s kind but firm resolve to learn from her what she knew, after enduring Thranduil’s mordantly suppressed censure, and after being forced to listen to Estel explicate to her that Legolas wore the periapt no longer and had implicated her in the misdeeds committed against him, Faelthîr had finally given in and admitted that she was involved. It was more than what Erestor had managed to glean from Faelthîr thus far.

They fell silent for a moment and let her sob, though none of them offered her any comfort. She sat at a small, slanted writing table, upon which she laid her folded arms to rest her head against, as she had done several times over the last hour when the mood struck her to hide her face. Upon their arrival, Ninan had dragged two chairs from a different room so that Elrond and Thranduil could sit before her at the desk, although Thranduil had desired to stand behind the she-Elf and so Estel had taken the seat instead. Often the Elvenking walked circles around the livestock healer, reminding the Ranger of a dog pacing the perimeter of its cage. Ninan was at the door, his hand upon the hilt of his sword, as if Faelthîr was of danger to his King and the Lord of the house. Of them all, the sentry was the furthest away but was currently frightening Faelthîr the most. She often looked his way.

_If she shares Mithfindl’s beliefs, then she must also believe that the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood are all barbaric. Since Ninan is the only one armed, maybe she thinks that Ninan will fly into a rage and kill her._

Lacking a balcony, the room’s only window was the lone source of light in her small sitting room. By the growing shadows in the room and the gradual mounting of trepidation he felt at having left his lover for so long, Aragorn determined the time of day, thinking though he had not been away from the Elf but an hour or so, _I should like to return to Legolas. I wonder if Kalin sent for breakfast for Greenleaf,_ he fretted. 

At last, Faelthîr raised her head from where she had kept it buried in her folded arms for the last few minutes while sobbing. With her dark hair hanging over her tearstained face and her tongue loosened with the knowledge that she could not claim innocence, Faelthîr tried to explain, “I didn’t want to do any of this,” she lied wholeheartedly in hopes that they knew less than what they did.

Elrond stopped this falsehood at once, slamming his palms down upon the tabletop in aggravation and startling them all. He reminded her sternly, “Do not try to fool me, Faelthîr. This was your idea as much as it was Mithfindl’s idea. In fact, I’d wager that it was your idea to begin. Your guilt is not in doubt here,” the Lord of Imladris warned her, “so do not think to convince me otherwise. The most that you can accomplish now is to tell us what you know. Perhaps your life will be spared.”

He had no idea if his father was fibbing or not. It was certainly not like Elrond to be untruthful. Never before had any situation like this arisen in the valley – not to the Ranger’s knowledge. There had been simple incidents over the many years in the Last Homely House – small thefts, fighting between residents, or broken agreements concerning trade or money – but none that would warrant a punishment so severe. Estel thought as he watched Faelthîr’s face drain of all color until it turned as grey as the slate tile roof overhead, _I have no desire to see her die, but if Ada deems her actions worthy enough for death, then Mithfindl will surely be given no leniency. They brought this upon themselves._

“It was not my intent for anyone to get hurt. It was not our original plan.” Sniveling with each exhale and sniffling with each inhale, the she-Elf was a mess of tears. She tried a different tact, saying as she wiped at her face with the sleeve of her shirt, “I had only told Mithfindl one day how easy it would be to use upon a human one of the periapts for the horses. That they are like animals,” she said without sparing a thought to the human who sat before her. “I told him that all it would take was something like the poppy milk or such to subdue a human. We talked of how having such sway over another person could advantage us. Had we the opportunity, we might use one of them on someone who could grant us that which we desired. It was merely conjecture; it was only dreams of revenge and gain, not a true plan for it.”

“And what was it that you desired? Other than the agony, torture, and probable demise of another Elf?” the King asked none too considerately, having walked another full circuit around the livestock healer until he was standing behind Estel and Elrond to face Faelthîr. He didn’t know about Faelthîr, but Thranduil’s constant pacing was making him nervous, so it must have been grating on the healer’s nerves if not heightening her fear. The Elf-King inquired, “What is it that you desired that made my son’s life worthless to you?”

“I wanted only to be taken into training for true healing. I am wasted as a livestock healer,” Faelthîr beseeched them to believe her. “Mithfindl wanted only what he had been led his whole life to think he would be granted when he was experienced enough to be considered for it – a position amongst Lord Elrond’s advisors. Neither of us could seem to gain these desires on our own. I have always been passed over for training and after Estel attacked Mithfindl on the training field months ago, the other warriors lost all respect for him,” she told them, although it was not news to Estel, who had heard this from Glorfindel days ago. “His father no longer sought to bring about Mithfindl’s advancement.”

Now that they had her talking, Faelthîr could not seem to stop. She wiped her face again, took a deep breath, and tried to persuade her audience of her probity, “I had never actually thought to use the periapt upon anyone, much less another Elf. When Mithfindl came to the valley from the borders, when he brought word of King Thranduil’s coming, he told me that we could put our silly plan to good use. He said that we would never gain what we desired here in the valley but that it would be possible in Mirkwood. He said that in Mirkwood he would without doubt be the smartest advisor Thranduil could hope for, and that I was already more skilled at healing than the Mirkwood healers could ever be. I never thought it would work. Never. But Mithfindl said that he would take all the risk, even lying to say that he stole the periapt and the milk of the poppy, should he be caught.”

“And so along the way here, he plied me with wine tainted with the poppy medicines and tried to tie one of the imprecated charms into my hair,” the Elf-King prompted, having begun walking around the table and those sitting at it once more. Thranduil continued, “But if you wanted to be a healer of more than horses and he wanted to be an advisor, why drug me into insentience the night of the feast?”

Each time the Elvenking walked behind Faelthîr, Estel noticed that the Elleth would tense, as if fearful of being struck from behind. It was unkind, perhaps, but since the Ranger would never let Thranduil hit the she-Elf, he cared not if she worried that the King might hit her – not if it made her tell them what they wanted to know. To the Ranger’s gladness, in fact, Thranduil’s constant pacing was indeed unnerving Faelthîr more than was Elrond’s irate glower or Estel’s grim visage, so without consultation the two remained quiet and let the Elvenking ask the questions.

“He was not supposed to place one of them on the Prince. It was meant for the King’s captain, Ninan,” she told them, sparing a quick, alarmed glance towards the sentry in question, who perked up at hearing this, as did they all, for this was new information. If Legolas knew all of these details from overhearing Faelthîr and Mithfindl’s conversations, talks that he’d been made to forget and had only the day before remembered, then he hadn’t yet told them. She spoke to Elrond, as if he were the one to whom she answered, “And of course, the one he’d placed on the King. Mithfindl told me when he returned that he’d placed one on King Thranduil while helping the King wash and prepare himself for his arrival. The milk of the poppy he’d been adding to the King’s wine, to make him more pliant. He told me that it worked just as we’d hoped. I was surprised that it had.”

Thranduil was watching his sentry, who was just as confused as the rest of them as to the reasoning behind placing a stone upon him. “Why Ninan?”

“To secure access to you,” she spoke directly to the Elf-King now, her voice deferent and meek. “But then the Prince was in your rooms the night of the feast, instead of Ninan as Mithfindl had thought would be the case for your protection. Mithfindl lost sight of our original intentions. He dosed you with more of the poppy than we’d intended, enough to render you unconscious, as you know,” she told Thranduil, “and put the second periapt on Legolas. The Prince asked for a glass of the wine, Mithfindl told me. He thought he might have to subdue him some other way, especially should you have fallen insentient before he had the chance to force the poppy upon the Prince or knock him unconscious or the like, but the Prince drank enough of the wine to subdue him, and thus his fate was sealed.”

 _By chance, the one night that Greenleaf drinks something other than water, it is the night that Mithfindl is plying the King with altered wine._ He had not sought details from Legolas as to that night. He’d not asked why he had chosen to drink wine with Mithfindl and Thranduil, but knowing his lover as he did, the Ranger guessed correctly, _Greenleaf likely thought to let bygones be bygones. He’d thought to keep his father from ever knowing of Mithfindl accosting him in the forest. And so he sat there, drinking wine with his assailant, never once thinking that Mithfindl was plotting against his father and him._

Again, she said, “I never thought it would work, but Mithfindl kept saying that the Wood-Elves in Eryn Galen are all animals, which is why the periapts worked, because they were meant for thoughtless beasts, after all.” The lone Wood-Elf in the room and his Sindarin King were immediately incensed at her words against the Silvan of Mirkwood, for though not a true Wood-Elf himself, Thranduil loved his people and their culture, having taken it as his own, and of course, Ninan cared little for being compared to a beast. Seeing their ire, Faelthîr tried to switch topics, saying, “Mithfindl was mad with desire for revenge. I did not know all of what Mithfindl intended. I had no clue that he would beat the Prince, nor…” she trailed off, unable to mention the viler deeds that her coconspirator had inflicted upon Legolas. “He said he wanted to own the Prince. He said that he wanted to keep him, like a pet. I argued against him, I promise you. I tried to make him see reason.”

“You lie,” Thranduil told her quietly from where he stood behind her. The Elf-King took several steps closer to the she-Elf until he stood just behind her. He charged hotly, surprising her with his unexpected nearness and the sudden kingliness of his shouting, “You knew all of it! You espouse the same hatred as he does, do you not? Do not cast all the guilt onto Mithfindl! You knew what he was about and decided that my son was nothing but an animal, as well! Nay, I would hazard to guess that you treat the animals in your care with more consideration than either of you treated my son!”

“No, I never would have agreed to any of it had I known what would happen,” she dolefully tried to convince them, though they all knew her to be untruthful. Faelthîr was doing her best to gain their sympathy but her weeping and piteousness was only angering Thranduil and embittering Elrond and Estel. She hugged her arms around her chest, under her breasts, and tried, “But it was too late by then. The stone was on the Prince and Mithfindl would not be dissuaded. He said that we could still leave the valley, that I could find patronage still in the Greenwood and that he could worm his way into your graces through Legolas.”

The Ranger sat back in his chair, his mind working quickly to assess what she’d said and how it rang false with what he knew. Estel turned her logic against her, saying, “You knew what would happen. You helped Mithfindl to convince Legolas that he was me, to turn Legolas against me. You used Kalin to learn what you could about the Prince, told Mithfindl, and then Mithfindl reenacted the very events that nearly caused Greenleaf to fade months ago. You told Mithfindl just what to say, what to do, because you drugged Kalin into telling you what few would know. You learnt of the abhorrent acts perpetrated against the Prince,” he repeated, his ire evinced by how his voice grew louder, “and despite learning about through what Legolas had survived, you told Mithfindl of those abominable acts so that he could break the Prince completely.”

She had apparently not thought that they knew of her misuse of Kalin. Faelthîr’s shoulders fell, her head dropped, her arms around her middle grew tighter as though she was comforting herself since she found none amongst her listeners, and behind the dark curtain of her loose hair she quailed, “Do not blame Kalin for it.” Shamefully she told them what they already knew, “I dosed him with the poppy. I laid with him and made him believe that I cared for him, to gain his trust and learn from him what I could. After Mithfindl had convinced me that using the Prince to achieve our goal would be as advantageous as using the King, yes, I obtained more information from Kalin so that we could use it against Legolas, to gain control of him. I am sorry,” she tried to plead to them. “It was a silly plan that Mithfindl took seriously. He was mad. I did not mean for any of this to happen. I did not know what he would do with the information I gave him, much less that he would do what he did to the Prince,” she repeated, still unwilling to allude to Legolas’ defilement by Mithfindl.

“You are sorry? You have abetted the rape of an Elf,” Elrond commented casually, as if speaking of the weather. His father so far had remained calm through this questioning, although Estel could tell that like Thranduil, like the Ranger himself, Elrond did not mind at all that the Elleth was afraid for her life. His compassionate father did not relish Faelthîr’s fear, but nor would he seek to ameliorate it. “You have aided Mithfindl in torturing an Elf. And not just any Elf, but an Elf whom I love as one of my own children. An Elf whose lover sits here before you, having been accused of the deeds that you and Mithfindl conspired to commit, who was nearly killed by Kalin in retribution and then by Legolas in the wrong belief that he was the one to have despoilt him. An Elf whose father stands behind you, who you also sought to subjugate, who may still lose his only child because you wished to heal Elves instead of livestock,” the Peredhel reasoned.

When said so plainly, Faelthîr and Mithfindl sounded selfish, evil, and repugnant, just as they truly were, despite Faelthîr’s attempts to convince them of her gullibility in following Mithfindl’s lead.

Faelthîr upheld her assumed, innocent, lachrymose demeanor for only a few moments more before she realized that it was not working and would not work – they saw through her easily. She would receive no sympathy from those around her. Her tears dissolved into a hateful scowl, she dropped her arms to her sides after pushing her loose hair away from her face, and she sat up straighter. “In the end, I would have hated being taken under tutelage in your realm,” she disrespectfully countered to Thranduil, who she could not see but tried to provoke regardless. “Mithfindl is right of one thing – your people are no better than beasts.”

 _An injured animal may strike out at anyone who comes near,_ he thought as he listened to Faelthîr tempt fate. _She will regret losing her temper_ , Estel believed. He was soon proven right.

“Mithfindl told me that he would break the whore – he did, didn’t he?” she taunted, her malevolence overriding her self-preservation, it seemed to the Ranger. All false apologies absent, Faelthîr wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks, which pinked as her anger grew. “The wretched whore will die and I say good riddance. From what Kalin said, I gather your pathetic son is a lunatic. He was fucked properly by the humans over a barrel in Lake-town, then spread his arse for them in the woods, and yet claims to have been defiled but still lives? And now the whore welcomes another human between his legs?” she taunted, looking directly at the Ranger and smirking. “I would think you would be pleased to be rid of him, Thranduil, since you told the whore you wanted him to die. You should be thanking us.”

He had never wanted to hit a female before – until now. Her opinion of Legolas meant nothing to him and had he heard it, would mean nothing to the Prince; and yet, she knew just enough from having drugged Kalin that she had hit upon every one of the Elvenking’s exposed nerves, for she said exactly what Thranduil had told Legolas when speaking of Estel the night of the Prince’s homecoming after his being attacked in the woods. That anyone else would know of these things, much less throw them in his face, might have brought Thranduil low. Estel watched his lover’s father, for the Elvenking had clenched his fists and taken another step towards Faelthîr. He had promised Legolas and Kalin that no harm would come to her and he intended to keep that promise. Beside him, his father had tensed, as well, for the Peredhel would not suffer Thranduil to strike one of his people in anger, either, regardless of her crimes or vindictive words, because she was unarmed and under his arrest.

The Elvenking leant in towards Faelthîr, his lips close to her ear, his hands remaining at his sides, to tell her softly, “Do you hope to make me slay you from anger? Do you think to be freed from life before your punishment is served? Do you not think that lying with Kalin in hopes of gleaning information from him makes you a whore? Mithfindl’s whore?”

Faelthîr opened her mouth as if to argue, but the Elf-King was not finished. Thranduil placed his hands upon the back of the chair in which Faelthîr sat, with one hand on either side of her shoulders, and continued in a voice low and intimate, sounding almost like a lover’s whisper, “I love my son. His people love him. Even your Lord and his family love him. You sit here alone, young one, complicit to torture, rape, and attempting to murder your own kind and your Lord’s fostered son.”

The room was silent for a moment while Thranduil let Faelthîr think upon his words, ere he concluded, “Who is there to love you, Faelthîr? Who will weep for you when you are gone? Who will plead to Námo on your behalf when he judges your faer? Or stand with you before the Valar when they settle your accounts? No one. Certainly not Mithfindl. Certainly not the one who fled the valley and left you here to clean up the mess, he who promised to take the fall for it. He used you like he used my son, but while Legolas was unwilling, you asked for it.”

The Elvenking, his mouth still near to the she-Elf’s ear, spoke with all the quiet dignity and wrath that he felt, warning Faelthîr in little more than a whisper, “Do not call my son a whore, not unless you are ready to accept a harsher judgment than the one you give.”

At once, Faelthîr’s anger dissolved and she was the weeping, distraught mess that she had been before, though this time there was no more dishonesty hiding in her face. To be reminded that Mithfindl had abandoned her, to realize the shame she brought upon herself – not because she had lain with Kalin but because she had done it for reasons other than love or affection – and to receive the King’s dignified wrath in the wake of her churlish, childish, and vindictive rant … Faelthîr had tried to knock Thranduil down a peg or two, but instead, she was the one who had been brought low.

Estel breathed a sigh of relief and then inhaled greatly with strange contentment. It ought to have shamed him to be so gratified at seeing Faelthîr reduced by Thranduil’s words, but it was much less than what she deserved. Most satisfactorily, it had been done by the King wielding the truth and not his fists.

“Tell us where he is,” Thranduil demanded, giving the livestock healer no reprieve. He stood up straight, removed his hands from Faelthîr’s chair, and began his pacing once more. “Tell us where he is and perhaps we will find some leniency for you.”

All pretense and self-righteousness had left Faelthîr, such that she only appeared tired and distraught. Aragorn did not know if she believed Thranduil’s promise for leniency or not, but could see that she would answer his questions. Whatever would happen to her, Faelthîr wanted it over and done with, for the Elf-King had just convinced her of one very important detail – Mithfindl was not on her side. He was not coming to save her. He had left her to take the blame. There was no honor left in protecting him, not when he had left her high and dry.

“I do not know,” she claimed, shaking her head. In shame, she could no longer look any of them in the eye and so stared at her hands, which now gripped the edge of the table before her so hard that her knuckles were as white as snow. “I did not even know that we were found out until I was taken from the stables and locked inside my rooms. As you said, Mithfindl broke his promise to me to take the blame and he saved his own hide.”

The Ranger found this hard to believe. They looked between them in confusion. But even Estel, who had not the same experience as the others in the room, could see that Faelthîr did not lie. The King, Peredhel, and Ranger were adamant that they would get their answers, but she had no answers to give, and so the three were at a loss. They would have to depend upon the search that Glorfindel was orchestrating, which might eventually lead to the Noldorin warrior, but might prove fruitless. With Legolas’ life potentially cut very short this night, Estel had hoped to offer him the good news of Mithfindl having been found and brought in for justice. It would be cold comfort but comfort nonetheless. Now he could offer no comfort at all in telling Legolas that he would be safe from Mithfindl. 

“I do not believe you,” the King tried to argue in hopes that she did lie. “When Mithfindl left, he told Legolas that you would lead him to where he hid,” the King told the livestock healer, though he made no mention of Legolas’ second defilement by Mithfindl. He would not give Faelthîr the pleasure of knowing that Mithfindl had taken his son again, since she might be delighted to hear it.

“There is no reason to continue protecting him,” Elrond warned her. “The sooner we find him, the sooner this is over. He is the one we want, Faelthîr, but if he is not found, I promise that you will pay for his deeds as well as your own.” The Peredhel rose from his chair, walked around the table, and stood beside Faelthîr. With Thranduil coming to stand on one side and Elrond on the other, Faelthîr might have been frightened, for she was in the midst of two of the most powerful Elves in Middle Earth.

However, the livestock healer disconsolately looked at each of the Elves beside her and then to Estel, who she had mostly avoided the gaze of during their interrogation. She was not intimidated, which to the Ranger showed that she was hiding nothing more on the subject. “If he had told me, I would tell you. We made no plans for should we be found out. I don’t even understand how we were found out.”

“Estel outwitted you both.” Thranduil towered over Faelthîr for a moment more before he walked away, towards the door. The King was fabricating this answer a bit, since in truth, the Ranger had only sussed out the wherefores and howtos and it had been Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor who first thought of charms and such as the cause of Legolas’ confusion. “The human who you say is like an animal outwitted you, which I suppose shows the weakness of your own intelligence. And my son, who you treated like an animal, overcame the hold of the periapt to save his lover’s life. You underestimated both of them, it seems.”

“Where is he?” the Ranger interrupted before Thranduil could continue or Faelthîr could reply. He was tired of hearing the two bandy words. He sought answers from her; he did not seek to punish her. Mithfindl was the one who he wanted. The Ranger was almost certain that Faelthîr did not know but he could not imagine why she did not, not when Legolas had been told by Mithfindl that she would lead him to the Noldorin warrior.

Faelthîr turned away from Estel in mortification at hearing that she had been outwitted by him, though she did reiterate, answering his question, “I do not know. If I had known that the stone was discovered on the Prince or that Mithfindl was being followed, as you say, then I would have fled the valley myself.”

 _That sounds like the truth,_ the human rued, for it made sense that if the livestock healer had been given any warning that their plan was discovered, she surely would have made her own escape. _But something is still off about this._

“Come then, Estel, Thranduil,” Elrond asked of them, though he said to the Elleth, “If you think of anything that might aid us to find Mithfindl, send word. Your life may depend upon it.”

The Peredhel walked to the door, which was opened for him by Ninan, and without another word to Faelthîr, his foster father exited with Thranduil just behind. Estel stood and followed them out of Faelthîr’s rooms, where she would remain until Elrond decided what to do with her.

Not watching where they were headed, Aragorn trailed the two elders down the corridor, his mind upon the issue at hand. Something about what Legolas had told him did not suit the Ranger. He did not immediately think that his lover was lying, but rather that Mithfindl had misled the Wood-Elf by misinforming him or that Mithfindl had been so hasty in his flight that he had not thought through the steps to seeing his aims accomplished. Or, perhaps he had been given no chance to set his plan in motion as he had hoped after telling Legolas to seek out Faelthîr for instruction.

“I think we need to speak to Legolas about this, but first let us discuss it ourselves,” the Peredhel said softly to Thranduil and Estel, while Ninan hung back so not to intrude. Elrond led them to an empty parlor not far from Faelthîr’s rooms where they would try to decipher this newest dilemma.

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With his friends and family off to question Faelthîr for Mithfindl’s whereabouts, Legolas was alone with only Kalin. This was his chance. He might not get another. For now, he had only Kalin to avoid, but if he dithered, he would have to evade Estel, Kalin, perhaps his father or Elrond, and maybe the twins. Moreover, the laegel feared that if he waited any longer, he would change his mind. As much as he wanted to see his lover again before he went, as the short time that he’d chanced to have with Estel that morning had not been enough for him, Legolas could not let it stop him.

The Ranger had left only moments ago. After asking Kalin about whether he had sharpened his Prince’s long knife as asked, Legolas knew how he would evade his sentry and thus be able to flee the valley unhindered. It would be now or never. He might have felt badly for tricking Kalin in this way but found that he did not. His sentry and the others would try to stop him. They would tell him that he was still injured, which was true since only the worst of his wounds were completely mended; that his faer was still fragile, which was also true since his grief was being held at bay by his wrath but was not resolved; and that he needn’t do this alone. The last was untrue. Legolas had to do this and he had to do it himself.

Legolas dressed. Kalin was chatting about the fletching of his Prince’s arrows, which the sentry had also checked the night before, having fixed the bindings upon several of them. He nodded and smiled when it seemed appropriate. He pulled his boots on, his tunic on, and under the guise of getting his hairbrush from the trunk, slipped an empty waterskin into his borrowed tunic’s pocket. His weapons were in Estel’s room, as planned, since that would be his point of escape. He needed nothing else. His trip would be relatively short.

His sentry had fallen silent, perhaps detecting his Prince’s lack of attention. However, Legolas did not notice this, either, so fixated was he upon his raging thoughts. Now that Estel was gone and his path was set before him, his mind could not stray from the all-encompassing rage that only expanded as his attention focused upon his task, such that this anger perpetuated itself until it threatened to consume him.

This was a fury different from what he had felt when desiring to kill Estel. This was the calm wrath that usually took over when he was faced with agents of Morgoth’s making. Had he known all that Erestor and the others knew of the periapts, had he been told that upon the stone’s removal that some of the wild beasts on which they had been used would become violent towards those who had tried to train them, the Wood-Elf might have understood better why he felt as he did. Legolas cared not a whit that Mithfindl had a father in Middle Earth who loved him or a mother in Valinor who expected her son to sail one day. To Legolas, Mithfindl had given up all rights he had to be considered one of the Elves the moment that he had thrust his shaft inside the Prince’s opposing entrance.

 _I will kill him,_ he thought of Mithfindl, looking about his chambers with eyes that intended to memorize every detail of the room that he had come to think of as his home away from home, _and if I cannot carry his body back to Imladris, then I will return with only his head. And if I do not come back at all, then I will die trying._

He knew that he would not be able to find solitude with Kalin. His sentry would follow him wherever he went. And so, there was nothing for it – Legolas would need to render his sentry incapable of following him. He would do it as gently as he could, however. With this in mind, Legolas walked across the room to the door and was not at all surprised when his sentry stood, as well.

In a few long strides, Kalin was at his side, his hand upon the laegel’s elbow to halt him, to ask, “What is it? What do you require?”

A fleeting twinge of guilt shot through his chest though his rage quickly subdued it. He loved Kalin. Despite that the sentry had doubted him over the last few days – for the sentry had been right to do so, it seemed – Legolas held no ill will over this and in contrast could honestly say that he loved his sentry all the more for daring to question him, for taking care of him despite not agreeing with him. Even when he tried to send Kalin away, Legolas had not been able to sway his indomitable sentry from his oath to protect his Prince. Knowing now why and to whom Kalin had first made that oath only increased his shame, for in effect, he would soon be subverting Kalin’s ability to keep the promise he had made to Legolas’ mother.

“My Prince?” the worried Kalin asked when his fellow Silvan did not answer straightaway but only stared at him in troubled thought.

Kalin may sound worried, but the sentry, like the King, the other Silvan, the Noldor, and the Ranger, were all beyond joyous for Legolas’ mind and will to have cloven from the periapt so easily and without the dire aftereffects over which they had worried. The laegel’s battle with his grief was nowhere near complete, of course, though his body was now healed to the point that his rhaw would not fail him before his faer failed him. And yet, despite this happiness to see Legolas alive and with no permanent damage from the periapt, Kalin carried the same terror that Estel carried, and the Prince believed that there was something else that was troubling Kalin, though he could not guess what.

“I wish to go into Estel’s room,” the laegel told his sentry, having already thought up a trite excuse that would hopefully sound valid enough for his purposes.

Ever ready to be helpful and wishing his Prince to remain in his rooms, since that would be where he was safest for the time being, Kalin determined to keep him within by asking, “For what, Legolas? Stay here and whatever you need I will fetch it for you.”

“I want to see how sharp my blade is,” he told his sentry with a wan smile, tugging his arm free from Kalin’s hold. “I’m not sure that you actually whetted it.”

With an obliging, disbelieving snort, as if unsure whether his Prince teased him or not, Kalin shook his head, saying, “You asked me to and so I did.”

“Come then, let us check it. I am bored of sitting in here and Estel has packets of pipe-weed in his dresser that need shredding. We can test my blade against them,” he told his guard in mock seriousness.

Without waiting for Kalin’s agreement and hoping that his sentry would not continue to question him, Legolas opened his door and crossed the corridor. Although the guards at the end of the hall were still present, and no doubt Oiolaire or one of the King’s guards was still on the terrace above Legolas’ balcony, he had a different method for his escape that evaded all of them – through Estel’s window, just as Aragorn had done in coming to Legolas’ room, although he would not be going through Elrond’s study as had the Ranger. 

“If you shred the paper packets, won’t the pipe-weed become stale from being exposed?” the pacified sentry asked as he followed Legolas into the human’s room, truly confused as to what his Prince meant.

“Exactly,” he replied blithely, which earned him a laugh from Kalin at the sudden understanding of wishing to ruin Estel’s pipe-weed so that he would not have to smell it being smoked.

“You must be feeling much better today, if you plan to start a war of pranks,” the sentry cautioned lightheartedly, happy to see that his Prince was feeling well enough to be mischievous, although still a hint of suspicion played about his eyes when he looked to his charge. “Lords Elrohir and Elladan are not nearby, though, so I’m afraid you’ve only Estel to target.”

“He is the least likely to seek revenge, anyway.” Legolas tried to maintain his calm, but his heart was beating wildly, his hands were shaking almost imperceptibly.

The very arguments that Mithfindl had said to him in the pleasance the day before, the arguments he had made about Estel when instructing the Prince to murder his lover – that is, that Legolas would never have peace until his tormentor was dead, that he could only prove to himself that he was not a weakling by killing his attacker, and that he would live forever under the threat of being shown his worth by the human if he did not kill him – were now some of the same reasons the Prince gave himself for his intrepid need to slaughter his true attacker – Mithfindl.

“Let us see it,” he told his sentry once they were within Estel’s rooms, looking around him for his white handled long knife.

His sentry bent, grabbed the long knife in its sheath from where it sat neatly on the rug beside the bed, and handed it to Legolas. “I think you could shave Estel’s beard with this, if you had mind. I took the whetstone to it as promised, but I may have become a bit carried away.”

_Then I can flay the skin from Mithfindl’s body before I remove his head._

From the corner of his eye, the Prince noticed that the Ranger’s window was open. He could even smell the flowering vine that grew along the wall outside, the vine that he would need to use to flee from the Last Homely House. Sunlight pure and golden cascaded in through the opening. For days now, Legolas had been inside the house, going outside only during his torturous ordeal in returning to his rooms from the storage room where Mithfindl had raped him, when he had convinced the Prince that he was Estel. To be in the woods, amongst the trees and wildlife, and to have purpose other than merely surviving, gave the laegel new initiative. He knew then that there was no turning back – he would see this done. His faer, his rhaw, his every thought and emotion converged upon this one deed.

Legolas slid his long knife out and inspected it, testing it against his thumb only lightly, and finding it to be very sharp indeed when it left a sliver of bright red blood in its wake. Kalin reprimanded him, scolding the laegel as though he were a child when he saw that Legolas had cut himself, “Careful.”

Immediately, Kalin reddened to have rebuked his Prince in this way but Legolas only laughed. He was pleased to know that should he manage to find Mithfindl and get close enough to use his long knife that it would easily slide through the Noldo’s flesh. “You are right. I will have to be careful lest I cut through the sheath,” Legolas joked mildly. He held his thumb to his mouth, rubbing the silvery claret against the inside of his lower lip in absentminded fretfulness, for the time was at hand to remove Kalin from his path, and he wished it could be done some other way. To distract his sentry, he asked, “Pass me my quiver, please. I want to see that the arrowheads haven’t begun to dull.”

As Kalin bent over again, this time to catch the strap of the Prince’s quiver in hand, Legolas turned his long knife over in his hand so that the thick, white hilt protruded from his fist. Before he could change his mind or think too hard about the consequences of his actions, the Prince drew back his arm, making Kalin’s head his target.

“I am sorry, my friend, but I have to do this. I have to find him and kill him,” he told his sentry before he swung his arm sideways through the air, the hilt of his long knife striking Kalin in his temple before the sentry even saw what was coming towards him.

Halfway through his swing, Legolas unthinkingly pulled back his momentum, for he did not want to hurt his sentry too badly; however, this hesitation blunted the force of the blow to Kalin’s head too much. His fellow Silvan crumpled to the stone floor of the Ranger’s room but he did not lose consciousness, evidenced by how he managed to catch himself on the footboard of the human’s bed. This was unlucky for Legolas, since he was not sure that he could hit his kind and loyal sentry a second time.

The moment that he lifted the hilt to strike again, determination fueling his attempt, Kalin was imploring him, having heard what the laegel said before striking him and knowing just of whom Legolas spoke, “Do not do this, my Prince. All of Imladris is out looking for Mithfindl. They will find him.”

“But I know where he has gone. He did not tell Faelthîr. He told me,” the laegel acknowledged. The hilt of his sword at ready to strike the sentry again, Legolas paused, which gave Kalin time to twist around, to face his Prince from where he knelt on his knees on the floor. “He told me once Estel was dead, I was to seek him out, likely so that he could kill me or continue his torment of me,” he admitted, although surely Kalin had heard this already since he knew of the interrogation of Faelthîr that morning. “I am sorry, but I cannot be stopped. I will not let you stop me.”

He had struck the sentry hard but not hard enough to break the skin; still, Kalin put his hand to the side of his head and withdrew it, looking for blood. While still on his knees at the end of the bed, Kalin kept Legolas talking, thinking that the longer they spoke the less likely the Prince would have the initiative to strike him again. Kalin would not fight back nor put his hands on the laegel, and he would only defend himself by trying to avoid more blows. “If you know where he is, why not tell us so that Glorfindel can retrieve him, my Prince? Let Glorfindel bring him to the valley for justice.”

He could not explain his need to kill Mithfindl. It was a puissant need – like an Elf needs to drink water to quench her thirst or like the living green of the forest needs the sun to thrive. His eyes flitting to the open window, out of which he soon intended to climb, the Prince explained impatiently, “He tried to make me kill Estel. He poisoned my father. I have to find him. I have to kill him. It must be me.”

True indignation sparked Legolas’ rage and Kalin understood it well. The Prince was certain that Kalin would not hurt him while trying to stop him, but the sentry would alert the other guards and the whole of the house if he could, and then the Prince would be lucky to make it beyond the gardens. If he wanted to render the sentry somewhat safely unconscious, then it would have to be now. He no longer had the element of surprise. But still, the Wood-Elf could not bring himself to hit his staunch sentry again, not when Kalin looked at him with such hurt upon his face that he had once again been left out of his Prince’s thoughts and excluded from his plans.

“I know that you do, my Prince, and I would see it done, as well.” Kalin held his hand out to fend off anymore oncoming blows and perhaps also to beseech his Prince to listen. “Take me with you. Let me help you.”

So stunned was the laegel by this that his arm fell to his side, his sheathed sword hanging uselessly against his thigh. Kalin took this opportunity to reason with Legolas, since the beleaguered younger Wood-Elf was paying attention.

“Please, listen. Mithfindl left Faelthîr here to fend for herself, so he would have anticipated that Faelthîr might confess should her involvement be found out, and he must have considered that it would be discovered eventually. He must have realized that should the periapt upon you be revealed or Faelthîr tell of it, then it would be removed and you would not be bound to follow his will any longer.” Kalin spoke quickly, as if to say his piece before his Prince could strike him again, although Legolas no longer had the will to do it.

Showing the quickness of his mind, for he had clearly grasped this in mere moments upon hearing his Prince’s intent, Kalin explained to Legolas what the laegel had realized the day before, “This is a trap, either way. Whether you had killed Estel or not, whether you tell the others of his whereabouts or go alone, with or without the influence of the periapt, Mithfindl will be prepared for it. He told you where he would be so that either you would come for him and he could kill you, or Estel would go to him for vengeance and he would kill Estel, or should you not live to tell where he is, then Mithfindl would be alive to seek his revenge upon Estel later. He will seek to finish his retaliation, you know this, and he will kill you, Estel, and as many others as he can in the process. He is mad but he is no fool. He will be lying in wait.”

“I know this,” he told the sentry. The long knife in his hand was all but forgotten. “What you say is true. It does not matter who finds him; he will kill them. Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel… any of our people or Minyatar’s people. I am sure that he hopes most of all that Estel will come for him, as I know that Estel would try to do if he learnt of Mithfindl’s location, or that perhaps if I wore the periapt still that I would come to him, because I think he has come to desire my ruin as much as Estel’s death. You are right, Kalin. I know this,” he repeated, holding his hand, the one that did not hold his sword, out to the sentry to pull him to his feet. Reassured and hoping that his Prince saw reason, Kalin accepted this help.

His relief was short-lived when his Prince declared, “No one will die seeking justice lest it be me. I will not let anyone walk into his trap, but nor can I let him remain, knowing that he lurks and plots to finish his revenge in some other way. I will not risk Estel’s life by letting Mithfindl live to finish his revenge, nor can I risk anyone else’s life by letting them go after him. It must be me,” he tried to explain.

“Wait, my Prince, please,” his fellow Silvan pled, hesitant and distressed, though the laegel had not moved. Legolas suddenly felt that he would now learn what had been troubling his sentry last night and this morning. Kalin tentatively placed his hand upon his liege’s arm, saying, “If you say it must be you, then let us go together. I will help you how I can, and together we will ensure that Estel, our people, and the Noldor will be safe, but you cannot go yet… not until you know.”

His time was growing ever shorter. He had no idea when someone might come to check on him or when they would tire of interrogating Faelthîr. At this point, in Faelthîr’s rooms, his Minyatar, father, and Estel had yet to learn anything from the livestock healer. It had not yet been an hour since the Ranger departed.

“Know what?” the Prince asked, although he felt that he would not want to hear what his sentry said to him. He replaced his sword in its sheathe, belted it to his waist, and reached for his quiver, which Kalin had dropped upon being hit by his Prince. Regardless of what Kalin told him, Legolas did not imagine that his mind would be changed and he wanted to be ready to leave. “Speak quickly.”

“Yesterday, when your father removed the stone that Mithfindl had placed upon you, it freed you from Mithfindl’s instruction not to die, not to fade.” Kalin noted his Prince’s aggravated nodding, for Legolas knew this already, and so continued in a hurry, though it was plain from his face that he did not want to say what he was about to tell his charge, “When we spoke of removing the stone, everyone knew that you would want to fade, that your sorrow would overcome your desire to live. Your father loves you,” he told the Prince, hedging in spilling the gist of his confession. “He did what he thought was best for you.”

 _I wear another periapt._ The laegel listened as the sentry went on to explain but still he knew just what Kalin would tell him. Some part of him had known this. Some part of him had felt his cage being opened, his faer able to flee to the Halls of Awaiting, and some part of him had felt exactly when that cage had been slammed shut again. _When my father saw that I would die when the stone was removed, he merely replaced Mithfindl’s will with his own._

“Legolas,” Kalin told him, his hand gripping tightly to the Prince’s sleeve, “your father thought to give you time to learn the truth of what had happened, to keep you alive long enough to learn that Estel was not the cause of your suffering. I swear to you that he only told you to live and not to fade. He placed another periapt upon you, my Prince.”

He had guessed correctly, but still, hearing aloud that his father had subjugated him just as had Mithfindl knocked the wind out of the Wood-Elf Prince. He stumbled back from Kalin, who refused to let go of his Prince’s arm and so was dragged along with the laegel when he staggered to Estel’s bed. Collapsing into sitting upon the mattress, Legolas felt as though the stone floor was giving way under him. Brutal and malicious despair thrummed through his bones.

The comburent indignation he felt for Mithfindl burnt away his confusion and sorrow, though temporarily it blazed upon his sentry. “You let him do this to me?” he asked Kalin. “You let him put me under his will?”

“Never, Legolas. I would never have allowed it. He did it when no one else was around and I discovered his intentions too late. I told him I would see it removed. I argued against it, telling him that if it was your choice to die, then it is no one’s place to stop you,” Kalin swore vehemently and the younger Wood-Elf could see that Kalin did not lie. The sentry knelt before where the laegel sat upon the bed, reaching out to hold onto Legolas’ other arm with his other hand, also, to keep his charge from behaving rashly or leaving him. “The last stone had to be cut from your scalp after only a few days of being upon you. This stone cannot remain or it will do the same. If you seek Mithfindl, you must remove it first for that reason, but also because he could use it against you, putting you under his will again.”

Legolas looked down to his faithful sentry, understanding dawning upon him. “That is why my father was angry with you? Why he said that you were relieved of your oath? Because you stood up to him for doing this?”

“Yes, my Prince.” Clearly glad that Legolas believed him, Kalin sighed in relief but still hurried to explicate to his Prince all that he needed to know. “I told the King that I would give him one day – until tonight – to remove it lest I take it off you myself. He agreed because he saw that I would give him no other choice.”

The Prince suddenly comprehended that if Kalin knew of this, then everyone else would know of it, as well. Closing his eyes, mortified that even after all was said and done, still his friends and family kept secrets from him, as though he were a child or weakling who needed to be sheltered. Revulsion moiled in his belly, churning sickeningly. He asked in a whisper, his voice breaking as he fought back the need to expel the sickness inside him, “And Estel knows of this? Elrond knows?”

“They did not know what your father planned, I promise you, but when learning of it they did not try to remove it immediately, thinking that perchance they could find some way to soothe your faer before you released it,” Kalin clarified, his hands ever upon the laegel.

The sentry could see and feel his Prince’s distress to learn all this and was distressed to be the bearer of this news, especially having to give this news so quickly and in such a way. He tried to defend the King, Ranger, and Peredhel, saying, “Elrond was most upset, but with the promise of it being removed tonight, he let it remain, so long as it was not used again by anyone else for any other purpose. Do not misunderstand me – your father had no right to do as he did, but he did not do it for spite. And Estel would do anything not to lose you, Legolas,” Kalin tried to explain but his soothing only inflamed the Prince’s anger further, for his Adan lover should have been the first to force the stone’s removal. Instead, his sentry had been the only one with the laegel’s interests foremost on his mind, while the Ranger had not opposed Legolas being enthralled so long as it kept him alive.

 _At any time, someone could have used the periapt to force me to follow their will. How do I know that they have not already, just as Mithfindl did?_ he worried. _I cannot trust any of them, it seems. That is why they have been acting so strangely,_ he surmised, reaching by instinct to the back of his head, where Mithfindl’s stone had been placed and another one was ensconced near the open wound made by the first’s removal. _They have been saying farewell, compelling me into living long enough to make themselves feel better about my death._

Kalin seized his Prince’s arm to keep him from handling the stone, which broke Legolas from his preoccupied contemplation. “Do not touch it. You ought not to handle it. We do not know what might happen should you touch it.”

“Take it off,” he demanded of his sentry at once, standing from the bed and nearly throwing Kalin backwards where he knelt on the floor before him. He did not give Kalin time to respond before he ordered again, “Remove it, now, or we will find out what happens should I touch it because I will rip it off myself.”

“Wait,” the sentry said again, standing and once more taking hold of his charge’s arm as though to keep him from ripping the periapt off as he had promised. Kalin warned him, “The stone is what kept your faer and rhaw from cleaving from sorrow. Removing it will remove what binds the two together.”

As he had thought moments prior and the evening before, the laegel now told Kalin, “It is a cage. A cage I thought to be my own mind, a cage I was freed from, only to be shoved back within by my own father and in collusion with those whom I thought loved me, but who have treated me just as Mithfindl did.” Legolas stepped closer to Kalin; there was no hint of the sentry’s kindhearted Prince beneath the menacing visage that railed at him, “I have been captive under the will of another for days now, and you tell me to wait to be free?”

His sentry grimaced at his Prince’s choice of words, for they aptly described the situation. Kalin stepped back and pointed towards the bed, “Sit, my Prince, and I will remove it as you ask, as I had planned to see done this evening... I just do not want to see you die, Legolas. Should we not go get someone? Elrond or Estel? Your father?”

“No. If I am to die, then you are the only company I desire. You are the only one who tried to protect me,” the Prince told his sentry, adding, “And if I do not die, then I am still leaving to find Mithfindl.” He did not bother to try to appease Kalin’s disquiet, but repeated, “Hurry. Remove it.”

At the moment, he cared little to hear if anyone worried whether he lived or died, since they had taken the choice from him. The laegel sat upon the bed once again, situating himself so that his back was to the sunlight from the window. Kalin needed no more persuasion. He had ignored his Prince’s commands several times over the last few days, but he would not ignore this one. It was his own desire to free his charge of the stone but more importantly, for the first time in days and perhaps weeks, Legolas commanded his sentry with the full authority of his royalty. Kalin instinctually recognized the difference in his Prince’s command.

“I am not certain where it is. I will need to find it. I will need to cut it free,” Kalin warned him as he withdrew the dagger at his waist. Forthwith, he began to sift through Legolas’ hair at the nape of his neck, telling his Prince, “Please, be still.”

The sentry had argued against the King placing the stone upon his Prince, he had been terminated from the royal retinue for his differing opinion and argument with the Elf-King, and he had promised to remove it this night. Even after hearing of how his sentry had remained faithful to him over maintaining allegiance to the King, Legolas’ breath halted in his chest as he feared, _What if he uses the stone now to keep me here? What if he uses it to force me from leaving?_

Legolas need not have been troubled. Kalin found the stone simply enough, did not try to touch the periapt, came nowhere near the foul charm with his fingers, and cut the stone free by shearing a section of the Prince’s hair at the nape of his neck, near to where the other periapt had been placed. He could feel Kalin’s blade scraping close to his scalp, tugging against the underneath of the stone to get at the lock of hair that was threaded through it. Not yet having burrowed under the skin of the younger Silvan’s scalp, the stone came free easily. The sentry stood back, a section of his Prince’s long hair in hand, and at the end of this rope of hair was the periapt. Being that it had been tied flush to the laegel’s scalp and the hair sawed away right where it had touched his skin, the periapt was bound to the hair no longer. It slowly slid free from the untethered end and fell to the floor, where it bounced a time or two upon the carpeted stone. Prince and sentry looked at it and then looked at each other.

Legolas felt the difference at once.

When the laegel folded over with both hands pushed against his chest, where his heart was beating irregularly, rapidly, and sorely, Kalin held him upright, aware that he was watching the end of his Prince and understanding full well that now that his Prince could feel his sorrow and despair fully again, now that he could choose, Legolas might choose death. It was not what he wanted but it would be his Prince’s decision, at least. Whereas before Legolas had wished to fade and could not, he felt now that he could fade if he desired. The Prince’s sorrow doubled, trebled, and then grew exponentially until it eventually overwhelmed him with its magnitude. Kalin watched him with unconcealed horror, unable to stop it from happening as his Prince’s faer loosened its hold on his rhaw.

Legolas was free to die now.

His cage was open.


	60. Chapter 60

He let his hands fall from his chest, where the familiar burning, lancing, and very much physical pain of his sorrow brought tears to his eyes. Legolas felt a great deal more agony and despair than before for the stone having been cut free of him, and he could now add the treachery committed by his father and friends to his list of rampantly debilitating emotions. Estel should have been the first to try to remove the stone upon learning that Thranduil had placed it upon the laegel, but instead, only Kalin had fought against its presence. The betrayal of having his loved ones treat him like a child hurt just as acutely as the sorrow that he had so far managed to quell, but which was now welling up inside him once again. Most hurtful of these was that while he sat there trying not to perish so that he could kill Mithfindl to protect Estel, Estel had not sought to protect him from the King’s subjugation.

 _If I sit here and die on Estel’s bed, then no one will know where Mithfindl is,_ he told himself, willing the abject despair to lessen. He didn’t need to be healed. He didn’t need to be happy or free of grief. He needed only to live long enough to see this one task completed. _No one will be able to find Mithfindl if I die; he will live to try his hand at revenge against Estel again._ Legolas may be aggravated with the Ranger for allowing the second periapt to remain upon him, but he loved him still, of course, and had the human’s welfare foremost in his mind. _Just a while longer. Let me live just a while longer,_ he pled to himself. _I must see this completed to make certain that Estel is safe._

“Legolas?” Kalin inquired softly. To himself more than to the laegel, the sentry rued, “We should not have removed it. We should have waited. I am of no use to you in easing your grief.” Having put both hands upon his Prince to keep him from falling to the floor, the sentry now moved his hands to the younger Silvan’s upper arms to push him back so that he could look into the laegel’s face. “Please. Let me go find Estel or Elrond.”

Unable to speak just yet, the Prince only shook his head in negation of this idea. He would either die now or live and leave, just as he had told the sentry moments ago, and having Estel or Elrond there might save his life but would impede his purpose.

“Postpone this, at least, please. I will tell no one what you intend, I promise you. Give it a day. On the morrow, if you still wish to hunt Mithfindl, we will go. Please, my Prince,” his sentry begged him without shame. Kalin had needed to undo his charge’s braid to find the periapt and the freed hair now hid his Prince’s features from him; and so, Kalin reached up to push aside the tumble of buttery, errant tresses that hung over Legolas’ face so he could see the younger Silvan’s pained visage. “Surely he will still be where he waits for you for another day. Please, my Prince.”

“You mean if I still live on the morrow,” he insisted and then felt immediately sorry that he was being belligerent, for Kalin was only trying to be helpful and his thoughtless rejoinder had caused his sentry even greater concern. He was tired of seeing Kalin’s worry, of all of their worry. In the woods, hunting Mithfindl, he would not need to see any of it.

From Kalin’s pale and bereft, remorseful grimace, the younger Wood-Elf could tell that his elder thought that he would die, especially if his faer was not soothed by Estel or Elrond, who were the two people whom Legolas had trusted the most during his recent tragedies. This was not true at the moment. Mithfindl had turned the laegel against all those whom he loved save for Kalin – removing the stone had reversed that distrust. But now, another stone had renewed it not by his having been told to distrust them but by its placement, except that removing the periapt had not negated the betrayal and distrust he felt for Estel, for Elrond, and for his father. Moreover, gentle soothing and the love of his friends and family were not what his faer required – revenge was what he needed and he could only provide this himself.

 _I have to live. I have to see this done. Once I have killed him, I will die,_ he promised himself. He tried to extirpate the twisted growth of desolation inside of him before it could take root. He encouraged his wrath to overwhelm his sorrow.

Through him flowed the memories of the many years of his being tormented by his father, of being berated and beaten for nothing more than his King’s whim or chance annoyance, of being told that he was worthless, shameful, and that he would never be a Prince as he ought to be, and of the rescindment of his King’s love. He thought of the night he had returned to his father’s halls, the Ranger sick and with the twins, while he went alone to his King’s study. He thought of how his father had hit him, had told him that he was a whore, that he should have died, and of the embarrassment that he had brought to his King and people. Meandering remnants of the restless, castigating scar happily helped this imagery along, but instead of being filled with grief at this memory, as he would normally, the Wood-Elf felt odium for his King. Always he had pushed away the idea of retaliation against his father and until recent months he had never tried to stand up to his King, either, but now he welcomed the imagining of trouncing his Ada across the head with a wine bottle as his father had done to him. He would never in truth do such a thing, but to imagine it enabled him to feel anger towards Thranduil for how he had treated his son.

Intentionally, the Wood-Elf Prince remembered when he was attacked in Lake-town, how he had thought to spend a pleasant day in the woods and in the human town, and how instead three merchants had tied him to a wine barrel and abused him in ways that he had never thought to live through, but through which he had somehow survived. Legolas let this memory add to his wrath. His mortification at being so weak to be taken off his guard, to be defiled by the men, and his wish to keep his father’s interest in trade with Lake-town had kept him from seeking revenge after he escaped from them. Legolas had suffered in silence, never once considering that it was the men who deserved the shame and punishment, rather than him. In the woods, months after that, when by cruel chance Cort and Sven happened upon the Elf and Ranger at their camp near the trade route, the Elf had not been the one to exact vengeance against his attackers. Estel had been the one to save him, to kill the two merchants, and to free him. He loved Estel and was grateful that the Ranger had been able to get free, to save them both, but even so, Legolas carried the onerous burden of shame for his being so pathetic that he had needed someone to save him. Again, the remnants of the scar aided him in this deliberate recollection of his sorrow, but again, instead of wallowing in the grief these memories brought, he let his mind fill with imaginings of what he would have done had he been the one to slay Cort and Sven. He imagined what would have happened had Aragorn not been there and thus only his own life was in the balance or had he gotten free before Estel had been able to. He let run through him the revulsion he felt for himself, but focused it upon them, instead, for they were the true perversions, the ones who should have felt the indignity and pain through which he had suffered, and they had certainly deserved their demises. He only wished now that he could have given death to them instead of Estel.

Even in his father’s halls, he had been weak willed and inept, had allowed Kane to use him to pacify the merchant and keep his King’s trade agreements intact. The merchant had not needed to tie him or subdue him with violence, as he had in his store. For this, Legolas felt the utmost humiliation. He had cared more for what his father thought of him than what he thought of himself, and though this consideration had been beaten into him by his King, he had accepted the abuse and the perspective. Legolas felt the abhorrence of the malingering scar as this memory was brought forth, but the true object of his abhorrence should have been Kane, not himself. And again, Legolas had not been the one to seek out Kane for retribution. Estel had relieved the merchant of his manhood, fighting the Prince’s battles for him once more, and his father had been the one to break Kane’s head open upon the floor. Either way, it had not been the Prince to enjoy the merchant’s agony and demise. At the time, he had not wished for the man’s death but he wished that he could go back in time to that night, to slaughter Kane before he had ever laid a hand upon him in the guest chambers. With a maliciousness that Legolas had never felt before, he thought of the vile taste of the merchant’s shaft in his mouth and wished that he had bit down upon it, through it, and taken the merchant’s manhood as had Aragorn with the dagger.

_I cannot allow everyone else to fight my battles for me. Despair is no excuse. I only prove to them that I am frail and mad._

Opening his eyes at the gentle insistence of Kalin’s repeated calling of his name, Legolas tried to indurate his faer against his sorrow by promising it bloodshed and reprisal. He could see now that his sentry’s face was trailed in tears. Before his fellow Silvan could argue or beg further, Legolas drew in a deep breath, displacing the grief housed within his chest with the cool air of the room, while trying to fill every last part of himself with wrath. The scar was gone physically – with that single inhale, the Prince plucked out the last of it, at least for now, for he refused to feel shame and grief any longer. He may be irritated with his family and friends, and especially with Estel, who had disappointed his Elven lover with his capitulation to the King’s idea of subverting Legolas’ will with his own, but he loved them no less than before learning of their betrayal, and he would sooner die than let any of them come to harm from Mithfindl. He would not let the Noldorin warrior live – not after what Mithfindl had done to him.

 _This time, I will be the one to do it. I cannot go back in time and change what happened so that I can be the one to kill Sven, Cort, or Kane, but I can find Mithfindl. I will relish Mithfindl’s blood running over my blade, over my hands. I will kill him slowly,_ he pledged. _I will not be the weak Princeling who needs someone else to protect him or avenge him. I will not sit here and die from sorrow before I take back from him what he took from me – my dignity. I will be the one to do this or I will die trying. It is the least that I owe myself._

He told Kalin in a voice that began weak but grew stronger as did his will to live, “It doesn’t matter, this doesn’t matter. Mithfindl cannot be allowed to roam free. He will seek to kill Estel sooner or later. If I live only to see him dead, I will do it. If by removing this stone I have hastened my death, then it is all the more important that I leave quickly and see Mithfindl’s end before my own.”

The Prince stood, accepting Kalin’s help when it was given, and then quickly reached out for his sentry’s shoulder when the room spun around him.

“I am fine,” he preempted, though having said this so many times before, as usual it meant nothing to Kalin to hear this hollow platitude. Again, he said uselessly, “I am fine,” but then, Legolas straightened his shoulders, let go of Kalin and stood up on his own, and with a voice stronger than before, a voice filled with the rage that was fueling his ambition to endure, he said a third, final time, and was finally believed by Kalin, “I am fine.”

The Silvan sentry breathed easily again. Kalin had been certain that Legolas would die there before him; he thought that his presence would not be palliative as would Elrond or Estel’s presence, and yet his Prince lived still. “I am coming with you,” the sentry told Legolas, warning, “If you seek to go alone, you will have to kill me to stop me from following you.”

 _He does not lie. I truly would have to kill him to keep him from following me,_ the younger Wood-Elf agreed. _Then it is settled._

Legolas looked around him, assuring that he had what he needed. His long knife, his quiver and bow, his empty flask that he would fill at the river when given the chance – he was taking little but imagined that he wouldn’t need much. The Wood-Elf Prince strapped his belongings to him and then began to plait his hair again, stalling a moment as he contemplated Kalin’s well-intentioned threat. He knew that it would be useless to argue against his friend, but Legolas wanted the sentry to know that he would not accept interference, and so told Kalin, “I will not let you or anyone else suffer at Mithfindl’s hands. When it comes time, it is my place to mete out justice. If you agree to this, then come if you wish. If you try to stop me or get in my way –”

As wrathful as he felt, none of that ire was for Kalin, and so the Prince let his warning peter out, for he could not threaten his friend. Even still, his fellow Silvan’s whole body relaxed with the relief of knowing that he would not be left behind and would not be forced to watch his failing, grieving Prince leave without him. Kalin had his own weapons already upon him, but having not brought his bow from the garrison while keeping watch over Legolas, he picked up Estel’s bow and quiver from where they were placed upon a short table and began to strap them over his chest. Kalin swore, “I would not try to stop you from it. No one else has the greater right to vengeance save you. I want only to help you.”

Above all else, Kalin wanted Legolas to be safe and well, and he would do whatever it took to see that this was true, which included helping his Prince to hunt down and slaughter his rapist and abuser, for it would facilitate his Prince’s recovery more so than any herb or kindness that his family and friends could offer him. Legolas could see by the set of his sentry’s face that Kalin would do everything in his power to ensure that Legolas returned to the valley, even if meant that Kalin did not, but he could also see that his sentry wanted this revenge for his Prince and so would not hinder Legolas. It was the most that the laegel could ask for, since he could neither kill Kalin to keep him from following nor trust the sentry not to follow after him with a retinue of their kith and Elrond’s sons should his Prince try to compel him to stay.

They stood there for a moment, gauging the other’s honesty; of course, for too long had Prince and sentry known the other for either to lie well. Finally, Legolas nodded, saying, “Then I welcome your company. Should I not live through this, I hope that you do, so that you can bring word back to my father of what I have done.”

“Then what is your plan?” the sentry asked. Kalin trod the few steps to the hallway to look both ways down it, ascertaining that no one was coming. “How do we make it to the forest?”

When Kalin turned back to his Prince, Legolas was already at the window, smiling at his sentry in answer. They would use Aragorn as their example. With haste, for at any moment someone could come to check on Legolas, the Prince and then the sentry climbed out the Ranger’s window, using the hardy vines that had grown into the wall. Easily, Prince and sentry scrambled up the outside of the Last Homely House, surefooted and nimble, but unlike Estel, who had entered his foster father’s study, crossed the room and then climbed down the other side to his lover’s balcony, Legolas and Kalin continued to climb until they were upon the slate roof of the house. They could not enter Elrond’s massive study lest Oiolaire or one of the household guards see them, but moving through the house was not the Prince’s intent anyway.

This part of the house was the tallest, so as long as they stayed low and away from the front of the roof, which looked down upon the valley, then Legolas believed that they would not be seen. In a crouch, the sentry following close behind the Prince, they sped across the rooftop until where the house curved back into the mountainside at the very end of this wing, where the back side of Elrond’s study and attached terrace ended at the stone face of the mountain. Here, Legolas scaled the barefaced rock of the mountainside, using the small ledges, nooks, and crannies as footholds and handholds, until he was strafing along the sheer mountainside to bypass the last, narrow section of the walled in, secluded family pleasance.

From where he clung to the mountainside, the Silvan could see the very flowered bush under which Mithfindl had dragged him to defile him. Noticing the bush caused him to falter, his hand to fall free from its hold upon the rock, all of which made Kalin whisper in a hiss at noticing his Prince’s unsteadiness, “Legolas?”

At once he began moving again, offering no explanation for his temporary delay. To see the bush had brought about the mortification he felt for being the plaything of another, an object of lust for Mithfindl’s use, but the Wood-Elf twisted that disgrace into hatred for Mithfindl. His ambition renewed, he moved on with Kalin only a step behind him.

Had his thigh still been injured, he might have had some trouble in this undertaking, but now that it was in excellent working condition, he moved without hindrance. It was a short drop into the top of a tall birch tree that sat at a lower level than this uppermost level of the Last Homely House and its family garden. They were out of immediate view of any of the household guards, but more importantly, they had escaped their fellow Silvan’s eyes, who would have tried to halt their Prince, while the Imladrian guard would have taken word to Glorfindel or Elrond rather than trying to impede the Wood-Elves.

They paused amidst the swaying, fragile branches of the birch, which held their Silvan bodies as if they were no heavier than the birds perching nearby, so that they could visually map out how best to get out of the valley proper. They might have left the house, but there were few ways to enter and exit Imladris, and all of them were guarded.

“Does anyone know why Mithfindl is hunted?” he asked his sentry, who was crouched right beside him, in a hushed whisper.

Kalin frowned and told Legolas just as Estel had assured the Prince the night before, “No one outside Elrond’s family, Erestor, Glorfindel, your father, me, Ninan, or Galendil knows all of what has happened. The rest of our people believe now that Mithfindl drugged the King and attacked you, but they do not know the details. As for the Noldor, they think that Mithfindl is responsible for the King’s sleep, but they know nothing of his attacks upon you, unless Mithfindl or Faelthîr made mention of it, but I doubt this for had they, they would have created suspicion at their knowledge.”

With a deep, relieved breath, the Prince nodded in eager acceptance of this information. He turned his attention back to the treetops around them, his keen eyes picking out the path they would take. “Good. Then when the Noldorin guard sees us in the woods or leaving the valley, they will think that we hunt Mithfindl for what he has done to our King. Should any stop us, that will be our story.”

“We will be followed. The moment that they notice we are gone, they will come for us, and those who have seen us will be able to point them in the right direction,” the sentry reasoned, adjusting the ill-fitting straps of Estel’s quiver about his chest. “Which way do we go?”

“We will go up the steps to the uppermost falls, and there go into the woods. If we are lucky, perhaps they will think that we are swimming,” the Prince hoped.

Kalin was not wrong. With every available sentinel in Imladris looking for Mithfindl, the Prince of Mirkwood would not go unnoticed as he left, for the woods would be thick with Noldor who searched for signs of Mithfindl. It would not take long before word of his going would be mentioned to Glorfindel, but since the Noldor knew nothing of Legolas’ torment, they would think little of his leaving with his sentry until they were told to hunt for him, as well. It would buy them some time, at least. Estel, the twins, his father, and whoever else planned to hunt for him would have more information than they currently did on Mithfindl, for whoever saw him leave would know the general direction that he travelled, perhaps even having knowledge of other parts of his journey, should more than one Noldorin guard in the woods catch sight of him.

 _It can’t be helped,_ he decided.

Aloud, he told Kalin, “Then we must be swift. We can take to the trees as much as possible once out of the valley.” As he began off through the limbs, he assured his sentry, “We do not need to evade them forever. Mithfindl is not very far away, but I must reach him before we are caught or before he is found.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elrond opened the door for Thranduil, who walked within to be followed by the Peredhel, until the Elf-King stopped, blocking Estel’s way from entering, as well. Ninan was preparing to stand guard outside the door, but his King told him, “Take word to Lord Glorfindel and Erestor that we know nothing more than what we did before. I would not have the search for Mithfindl grow lax in hopes that Faelthîr provided information.”

 _That is unlikely,_ the Ranger thought but did not say. Knowing Glorfindel as he did, Aragorn was certain that the commander would not cease until Mithfindl was found. As Thranduil still barred the doorway, Estel stood impatiently in the corridor. With a slight bow, Ninan began away to the council room that Glorfindel was using to concert the efforts in finding Mithfindl. In that room, maps of the valley and surrounding areas were kept, which the warrior was using to plan the patrols and searches. _Glorfindel and my brothers will never stop searching until Mithfindl is found, regardless of what happens to Greenleaf tonight._

He watched Ninan disappear around the corner but did not yet enter the parlor, for his mind was lost in thought of how his lover fared. He listened half-heartedly as Thranduil spoke, beginning their discussion of their interrogation of Faelthîr by saying, “I believe her when she says she does not know where Mithfindl is, but perhaps my son was misled. Perhaps Mithfindl thought to have time to share his plan with Faelthîr but was given no chance to do so,” Thranduil was reasoning to Elrond, his logic aligning with what Estel earlier decided may be the case.

He knew that he ought to go within and shut the door, to use this time with his father and the Elvenking to discuss Faelthîr and Legolas’ misguided instructions, but something kept him from wanting to enter the room. The dread he had felt for days, the dread that had culminated with Mithfindl’s second attack upon the laegel, was beginning to rise again. Mithfindl could not hope to get near Legolas again, so Estel could not fathom that his lover was in any danger right now, but still, waves of terror began to buffet his outward calm until he felt the need to run to the Elf’s room to ascertain his well-being.

At seeing the Ranger was in the doorway and thus the door open for any to hear their conversation, Elrond instructed, “Come inside, Estel. Let us speak quickly so that you may get back to Greenleaf.”

Getting back to Legolas was paramount upon his mind. He stepped inside but before he could shut the door, Aragorn saw that the twins were making haste down the hall. He called out to them, “Elrohir, Elladan!”

They had already seen him standing in the doorway and were nearly running in their alacrity to get to him. Upon hearing the Ranger call to the twins, Elrond and Thranduil strode to the door, arriving just as Elladan and Elrohir did. Together, the four Elves and one Adan came to stand in the hall just outside the parlor door.

At first, the Adan dared to hope that Mithfindl had been found, but the Ranger’s hopes were dashed upon seeing his brothers’ harried, identical faces, and his trepidation boiled over into outright panic. He asked them before either could speak, “What is it? What has happened?”

“We went to Greenleaf’s chambers, to visit him as we had promised to do last night when arriving after you had both gone to bed,” Elladan began to the Ranger, coming to stand beside Estel, while Elrohir stopped next to Thranduil, such that they had formed a circle in the middle of the corridor. All thoughts of maintaining privacy were forgotten in the haste to share their news.

The younger twin finished his elder twin’s explanation, saying, “Greenleaf is not there. The sentries at the ends of both halls did not know he was gone, nor did Oiolaire see anyone from his place on the terrace above Greenleaf’s balcony. He has disappeared.”

Estel closed his eyes. The frayed, tangled threads of thought that he’d been trying to weave together finally coalesced into coherency. The faint and intangible suspicions that he’d felt were abruptly confirmed. He knew now for certain that Legolas had lied to them. _Mithfindl never told him that Faelthîr would take him to a meeting place, but he did tell Legolas where he would be._ He knew now why Legolas had lied about Faelthîr being privy to Mithfindl’s whereabouts. _It was a distraction. He hoped to focus us upon her while he fled. He probably hoped that she would lead us in the wrong direction. This is why he spoke so strangely, why he kept saying ‘when this is over.’ He has gone and he doesn’t expect that he will return._

Thranduil grabbed the Ranger's shoulder – hard. The Elvenking was watching Estel, as if he could see the thoughts that ran through the human’s mind and could tell that while they all stood in confusion, Aragorn had figured out what was happening. "Where would my son have gone?" the King asked him, shaking the Adan’s shoulder lightly to gain his attention. “What is happening?”

“To Mithfindl. He has gone to Mithfindl.” Estel opened his eyes to look at them, the surprise he saw on their faces turning to understanding as they realized what he had already come to cognize. “Greenleaf lied to us. He wanted us to think Faelthîr knew of Mithfindl’s whereabouts so that when he left, we would turn to her for answers, or perhaps he just wanted us all focused somewhere other than him. He has left to find Mithfindl. Mithfindl told Greenleaf where to meet him.”

Horrified, perhaps thinking that the removal of the periapt had not kept his son from seeking out the Noldorin warrior for more pain and torment, as he’d been instructed to do by Mithfindl, Thranduil’s hold upon Estel’s shoulder grew tighter until it became bruising. “Why?” the Elf-King asked, his fear of the answer transparent upon his face. “Why would he lie to us and seek out Mithfindl?”

Not truly noticing the pain that the King was causing his shoulder, Estel explained simply, “To kill him.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His will was finally his own. After days of being subverted, subjugated, and thralled, Legolas was following only his own directive.

The Prince stopped to let Kalin catch up to him. To get to the highest falls, the two Wood-Elves had needed to use the staircase carved into the living rock of the mountain, and in doing so, had passed three she-Elves and an Elfling who had been swimming that morning. They now changed direction and backtracked along the woods on the outskirts of the valley, which would hopefully confuse anyone who learnt of their going this way. Kalin and Legolas stalked through the tops of the trees, silent and unseen by those below. Already they had crept over the heads of several Noldor who were never aware of the noiseless, hidden Wood-Elves above them. So far, they had passed no guards, but their luck would not last forever. Eventually, they would be seen.

 _At least I am not alone,_ he thought of Kalin, who now soundlessly crouched beside him upon the branch. Neither Elf speaking, for no words were needed between the sentry and Prince, the two Wood-Elves continued on their way, Kalin following Legolas faithfully, until they were closer to the outskirts of Rivendell and making a direct line for where Mithfindl had told the laegel that he would await him. _When this is over, I will die, if I wish, and Kalin can return to the valley with word of Mithfindl’s death and my passing. But not now,_ he promised himself again.

The farther they went from the Last Homely House, the greater his sorrow grew, and it leached away his resolve; however, the thought of Mithfindl living to finish his revenge against Estel kept him moving forward and his intention to spend his wrath upon the Noldo bulwarked his faer from the brunt of his grief. His regret to have lied to his lover, his second family, and father created a deepening rift between his actions now and his hope to return to them after this was completed. His anger at being tormented, of being treated as a plaything for the merchants, for Mithfindl, and then as little more than a slave by his father – despite the King’s good intentions – fomented his determination to see Mithfindl dead.

He was tired of being the shamed, helpless Prince of Mirkwood, the one who needed others to fight his battles for him, who needed the constant care and attention of his family and friends lest his sorrow or madness cause him to act rashly or violently.

He would find his own vengeance or he would die trying.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If the rest of the Last Homely House had any idea of the goings on betwixt Elrond and Thranduil’s kith and kin, then it never interrupted the daily routine of cooking, cleaning, mending, training, teaching, healing, and crafting that sustained a household such as Elrond's household. As far as Estel knew, none of them had any inkling as to what was occurring, but being wise and having the patience of the immortal, they took strange occurrences with great tolerance and might make no outward show of their knowing.

They had left Elrond to seek out Glorfindel and Erestor, so that the commander and advisor could begin the search for Legolas, as well, while they had decided to search Legolas’ rooms for indication of his destination. Aragorn sped through the halls, his long legs making short work of the distance from the corridor in which Faelthîr’s room was located to the family wing of the house. It was into a serene she-Elf carrying a load of linens that he careened, almost taking the legs out from under the servant with his own legs. The she-Elf, however, neatly jumped over the Ranger’s feet and landed deftly upon her own, giving not a second glance to the sprinting human as she continued about her task. Estel, however, fell to the ground, rolling once before he was back on his feet and running once more to Legolas’ rooms. The Wood-Elves guarding the entryway saw him coming and were immediately on guard, though not in suspicion of him but thinking that something was occurring, that he was being attacked or that trouble followed behind him.

It was their King and the twins who ran behind the speeding Ranger, however, and not attackers. The Silvan sentries sought to protect their King and hailed him with worry in their voices, but Thranduil only waved them off for now. He would question them later if there was need, though Estel doubted that they could offer any more information than what Elladan and Elrohir had learnt from them already.

 _Why have you done this? Is the scar speaking to you?_ the Ranger asked of his lover, who of course was not there to answer. _Why would you try to do this alone, Greenleaf? Glorfindel would have taken a whole contingent of warriors to drag Mithfindl back, dead or alive. If nothing else, we could have gone together to find him, if you were so determined to go._

As of yet, they had no proof that the laegel had fled the valley in search of his rapist and tormentor, but Estel could feel it within his chest – Legolas was gone.

He stopped outside the laegel’s rooms; as he had the day before, when learning that Legolas was hurt in the pleasance, the Ranger found himself unwilling to learn the truth of what had happened and so did not immediately enter his lover’s chambers. It wasn’t until Elladan came up behind him that he flung open the door.

"Estel, see if you can discern anything from Legolas' room that might help us," the elder twin asked of him. "I know your talents are better suited to the forest, but perhaps you can find some clue as to where he went."

“We are going to Ada’s study,” Elrohir told the human and the Elf-King who stood behind him. “We will return shortly.”

Before they could get far, for the twins were running down the hall ere they had even finished speaking, he called out to them, “Why Ada’s study?”

Elrohir and Elladan paused just at the bend before where the rest of the family rooms were located, with the elder saying, “There is no way to leave the pleasance unless it is through one of our rooms, and our rooms lead only back to this hallway. Since there are guards posted at the end of the hall and at the stairwell, there is no point to his having done that for they would have seen him. His room is the only one that faces the front of the house, but had he jumped from the balcony, Oiolaire would have seen him. There is no way for him to have left without having climbed out your window, using the vines to go upwards, just as you did to get into his rooms.”

“I doubt we will find anything in Ada’s study, since he would have had to chance being seen by Oiolaire, but we will ask the guards to find out if they have seen him move through the upper floor. More than likely,” the younger twin guessed and guessed correctly, for they knew their Silvan friend well, “he went up the vine all the way to the roof, walked along the top of the house to where it meets the woods at the end of Ada’s study, and leapt down into the trees. From there, he could use the forest as cover to go anywhere.”

The twins’ reasoning was sound, surely, but not very encouraging. They took off again before he could question them further. With reluctance, the Ranger entered his lover’s chambers and scouted for anything amiss – he found nothing. Everything was the same as before, except that Legolas’ boots and tunic were missing. As he looked about, Aragorn suddenly remembered thinking how oddly empty the wall had looked the night prior, which is when he thought why this was so, feeling foolish for not having taken better note of this because if he had, his lover’s plan would have been foiled last night. He walked to the wall and stared at the empty hooks there.

_Legolas’ weapons are missing. His long knife, his quiver and bow. They were missing last night. He must have moved them._

Finding nothing else in Legolas’ rooms – or at least nothing that gave any clue as to which way he might be travelling – Estel went to his own rooms to ascertain if there was anything to be seen there. Silently, Thranduil followed behind him, taking in the same that the Ranger did, though neither spoke aloud of what they concluded from their observations. He looked around his own room and found nothing particularly interesting here, either. The window was open but likely had already been open: he was not sure. Either way, the open window only confirmed the twins’ assumptions.

“He knows,” the Elvenking suddenly said, ending the silence and startling Estel with the anguish he heard in Thranduil’s tone. The Elf-King rued, plopping spiritlessly down into sitting upon the Ranger’s bed. “He has found it.”

Aragorn had no idea of what Thranduil was speaking at first. Dazedly, he ambled to the King to see what Thranduil held in his hand. Lying in the King’s open palm sat the dark, multihued stone that the Elf-King had tied into his son’s hair the day prior.

_The periapt. Greenleaf has removed the periapt._

Feeling his knees weaken under him, Aragorn’s mind was assaulted with terrors of what might now occur to his lover. The periapt had been the glue holding the Prince together. Without it, in the wilds, in search of his attacker, Legolas would endure his sorrow alone.

“What would make him do this?” he wondered aloud, though his heart already knew the answer. “Why would Greenleaf try to do this alone?”

“He is not alone,” Elladan told them as he and Elrohir entered the room. The twins had heard Aragorn’s musings, for he corrected, “Kalin has gone with him.”

Thranduil was just as bewildered and hurt as Estel by this betrayal from the Prince, though neither of them stopped to consider that they had betrayed Legolas only the day before by placing the periapt upon him. Closing his fingers into a tight fist over the stone, Thranduil asked the twins, “How do you know this?”

“Because the guards did not see Kalin leave, either, and we all know that he would not have willingly left his Prince for any length of time unless one of us was to remain with him. Also, your bow and quiver are missing,” Elrohir pointed out to Estel, who had not noticed this and now looked at the table where they usually sat to affirm this observation. “Legolas’ bow and quiver are gone from the wall, but Kalin’s are in the garrison, being that he did not need them inside the house. Unable to go back to get them without causing suspicion, he took your bow.”

Their logic was not yet completed, it seemed, for Elladan crossed his arms over his chest in agitation and continued, “Besides, Legolas would never have known about the periapt had not Kalin told him, much less removed it, more than likely. We learnt of it from Kalin only last night ourselves, long after everyone else knew of it, it would seem,” Elladan argued, pausing to give Thranduil a scowl, though since the stone was removed from their friend, his anger meant little now. The elder twin went on, “And because knowing Kalin, he would not have let Legolas leave without trying to trail him, meaning that Legolas would either have had to knock him unconscious to keep him from following or given in and let Kalin go with him.”

Estel breathed a sigh of relief to hear this, at least. _He is not alone. Kalin is with him. There is some hope._ And yet, his lover was gone, the periapt that had kept him alive was removed, and Legolas sought out the virulent Elf who had tried to break the Prince completely. _But Kalin will keep him safe,_ he tried to reassure himself. Elladan and Elrohir came to him, for they could see the utter heartache upon the young human’s face, and together they each placed a hand upon his shoulders. _Kalin will tend to Greenleaf’s faer, he will be on the lookout for the influence of the scar, and he will see to it that Legolas returns to us, surely. We must hope._

“As Erestor told us, the wild beasts became violent towards the masters who had tried to train them,” Elrohir reminded them, giving Thranduil a sympathetic frown at the continual allusion to Legolas being trained like an animal.

Elladan squeezed Estel’s shoulder gently in comfort, saying, “Could it not be one of the reasons that he now seeks Mithfindl? For vengeance?”

“It could be, but more than likely he does it for Estel, as well,” the King told them, his eyes ever upon his fisted hand. “It is not vengeance – or not only vengeance – that my son seeks.”

“What do you mean that he does it for me?” Estel asked the King, although he suddenly suspected the answer and feared to hear it.

“As long as Mithfindl lives, you are in danger. He is protecting you, Estel. He would not tell anyone where Mithfindl is because then someone else would chance to get hurt in trying to find him, and knowing that you would want to be involved in bringing Mithfindl back to the valley, as would you both,” he said, looking to Elladan and Elrohir, “or Lord Glorfindel or any of our own people, he seeks to keep you all from harm by seeking out Mithfindl himself. He would have left Kalin behind if he’d had the chance, I believe.”

 _I will not have Greenleaf die for me. I will not have him continue to suffer to save me,_ the Ranger thought, though aloud he declared, “We must find him. We cannot let him walk into danger.”

“No,” Thranduil told them. The King stood from Estel’s bed, the periapt he’d placed upon his son in his hand, which he’d opened again to peer upon the imprecated charm. He did not look at them but kept his gaze upon the stone; his hand was shifting slightly, which caused the color of the charm to shift, as well. “No. Do not search for him. He goes to do what he must,” the Elvenking supplied, his fingers closing around the periapt to make a tight fist yet again. “My son must take care of this on his own.”

“I am not leaving Legolas to face his tormentor on his own.” The Ranger looked around him, his mind already supplying him with what he would need to take with him. At once, his mind began to plot out the steps needed for trying to pinpoint from where the Prince and sentry had exited the valley, and thus in what direction they would be headed. Vehemently, he declared, “Without the periapt, his faer and rhaw are no longer bound together. I will not let him die, much less let him suffer at Mithfindl’s hands again.”

The King must have thought that Estel would obey his demand to let the Prince wander the wilds in search of his excruciator. The Elf-King was horribly wrong. “Where do you go?” Thranduil asked him.

 _Then you did not lie, Greenleaf. We will have our hunting trip after all,_ the Ranger considered as he grabbed his broadsword to strap about his waist. _Except now, you pursue Mithfindl, while I pursue you._ Elladan and Elrohir left the room in a hurry, likely to arm themselves and prepare to go with the Ranger.

When Estel did not respond to his question but only continued to gather what he needed, the King repeated, striding to Aragorn as he did, his glower and wrath red upon his face, “Where do you go?”

Estel grabbed his cloak from the hook by the door, saying simply to the King, “Hunting.”


End file.
